When the dam breaks
by Zachiliam
Summary: When Erin gets shot on the job, Hank sees red. And the closest person to blame is Jay. The focal point of this story is Hank and Jay's relationship, and addresses some of Jay's issues and his past relationship with his father. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi everybody. I have not written fanfiction in ages, but this story is already half done and today I thought, "eh, why not, let's share it". This story takes place when Erin and Jay are officially together, after Voight gave Jay the "green light". Although the core of the story involves Erin, the story focuses heavily on Jay and Hank, the way they interact together and the way they view each other.

This story is not beta-ed so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings for this story: cursing, violence, depiction of injury

Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago PD, don't own the character, I'm just playing with them, and I'm not making any money doing so.

When the dam breaks

Chapter 1

JAY - - - -

Jay watches, frozen to the spot, as the gurney on which Erin is lying is pushed through the doors that lead to the OR. He feels oddly numb, the adrenaline dump leaving him strangely disconnected from the rest of the world. The sense of urgency is still there, but he has nothing to focus it on. Everything is in the hands of her doctors, the ones with the grim faces and pessimistic frowns. His brain refuses to acknowledge the reality of the situation. It can't be happening. This isn't real. This is all some kind of nightmare from which he will wake up any second. He watches as Ruzek paces back and forth like a tiger in a too small cage. Olinski's gaze is stuck on the OR's doors, as if, with enough concentration, he might see through them. Voight, Dawson and Atwater are not there yet, and that's kind of odd, they were right behind the ambulance.

Jay's hands are still covered with Erin's blood, from when he tried to put pressure on the wounds, before the paramedics arrived. It's starting to dry, and it makes his fingers sticky and stiff at the same time. He had pressed on the wounds with all the strength he had, all the while maintaining a constant litany of "please don't die, come on Erin, stay with me, please hold on, baby please don't give up…" But now that he's stopped applying pressure, now that they have taken Erin away from him, he feels lost, useless.

As the adrenaline leaves his body, Jay's aches and pains slowly start to reclaim his attention. The right side of his chest is throbbing, as is his right hand, the pain worsening with every breath he takes, and there is a tight pressure surrounding his head, a dull ache that intensifies every time he shifts his gaze. Add to that the dizziness and nausea and he is pretty sure he has a concussion. No surprise there, after all he hit the floor headfirst when one of the perps took him down. A wave of exhaustion crashes over the young detective. Still facing the closed doors of the OR, Jay takes a step back and leans carefully against the wall, allowing it to take some of his weight without it being too obvious to his teammates. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, not caring that he's putting some of Erin's blood on his face, as he tries to swallow the sob that is crawling up his throat. In an attempt to regain some semblance of control, the ex-ranger takes a deep breath, before opening his eyes once more.

He doesn't see the fist coming. The blow lands neatly under his jaw, snapping his head back. Jay hits the ground, dazed, the whole room spinning. In the center of the maelstrom, there is the furious face of Hank Voight, and it's the only thing that's not moving with the rest of this damned carousel. When everything else is a blur, the hard lines of anger and accusation on his boss's face are the only things that Jay can clearly see. Voight grabs the collar of his leather jacket and pulls his head up. Through the ringing in his ears, the younger man can hear his sergeant yelling, "Where the fuck were you, Halstead?! She's your partner! Where the hell were you?!"

Still dazed from the punch, Jay struggles to understand what is going on, and it is pure instinct that makes him raise his left arm to deviate the second punch coming his way. The third one catches him under his left eye, and he feels the skin of his cheekbone split. As suddenly as it has begun, it is over.

The iron grip keeping him propped up is gone in an instant, and Jay falls back to the ground, panting heavily, tiny stars still dancing in front of his eyes. Distantly he can hear different voices, some yelling, some soft, some trying to sound appeasing, some annoyed.

"Calm down, Hank, calm down"… "Erin…"… "He didn't…"… "Let go of me!"… "This is a hospital for God's sake!"… "Get your hands off me…", "It's ok…"… "they're taking care of her"… "Leave me…"

"Hey kid, you alright?"

It takes Jay a few seconds to realize that this last voice is talking to him. Olinski's deep brown eyes have replaced Hank's face, and the older detective is holding his right hand out to Jay. Jay grabs it awkwardly with his left hand, the right one too painful and swollen to be of any use, and lets Olinsky pull him in a stranding position. As soon as he's vertical, the room starts spinning again. It's a good thing that there's a wall nearby, this way Olinsky doesn't have to hold all his weight by himself.

"Come on, sit down".

Olinsky guides him to a plastic chair, where Jay promptly sinks. A quick glance tells him Voight is not about to come at him again. Dawson is not restraining Hank anymore, but he still keeps a placating hand on Voight's shoulder as they confer with Ruzek. Atwater stands back awkwardly, unsure on whether he should join the small group, as Ruzek updates their boss on anything he knows, which is not much. Hank starts pacing, demanding to see a doctor, or anyone who can tell him more about Erin's condition. Jay knows it's no use, the surgeons have barely started working on her, nobody knows anything yet, except that she's been shot twice in the lower back, just below the vest. The extent of her internal injuries, which organ was or wasn't hit, and how much blood she's lost, it's all being assessed, behind those doors. It's frustrating as hell but right now all they can do is wait, and let the medical professionals work. He keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting Voight to think he's up for round two.

It annoys Jay a little that he let his boss got the drop on him. Concussion or not, he should know better than to let his guard down. The truth is, even though he wants to be angry at Voight for taking a shot at him, he can't. Not when he blames himself for not protecting Erin better. His jaw is now throbbing in sync with the rest of his bruises, and he relishes it. The physical pain distracts him from his guilt. He's Erin's partner, in fact he's more than that, and today, he failed her. If she dies… no, he doesn't allow his mind to go there. Erin is a fighter, she's going to live, she's going to wake up in a few hours and the first thing she'll do is ask to go home, because two pesky little bullets aren't going to keep Erin Lindsay down.

"Jay?" The way Olinsky says it, Jay knows it's not his first attempt at getting Jay's attention.

"Yeah? "

"Come on, let's get you looked at." Olinsky stands and makes a move to help Jay stand as well but the young detective jerks his arm away.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah. Ok. Let's get you checked out anyway."

"I'd rather stay here."

"I know." Olinsky's voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and his eyes don't leave Jay's as he reasons "It will only take a couple of minutes, you won't be away for long."

"I said I'm fine, Al." Jay tries crossing his arm in a petulant gesture, but the move is aborted by the pain in his right hand. He ends up draping his left arms across his ribs, the gesture looking more defensive than defiant.

"Jay…" Olinsky tries again, before being loudly interrupted by Dawson, "For God's sake Halstead, we know you're a tough guy, now do as he says!" Then in a quieter voice he adds, "In the off chance that we get some news about Lindsay, I promise I'll run into your exam room to pass on the news. Now come on, go with O, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Jay sends a quick glance in Voight's direction, force of habit making him look for his Sergeant's permission to leave. Their eyes briefly meet, but Voight turns away from him, pretending to be reading some kind of poster on the opposite wall, fists shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. Probably to keep them from Flying toward Jay's face again. Jay sees the expectant look on Olinsky and Dawson's faces, and he caves.

"Alright…"

He stands shakily, this time letting Alvin get a hold of his left arm to stabilize him. Jay's thankful that his brother is away, attending a congress in Boston. He doesn't like when his brother sees him hurt. There is still some naivety in the way Will envision Jay's job, and Jay has no intention on breaking his bubble.

As they enter the ER, Olinski starts walking toward doctor Manning but Jay stops him, nodding toward Dr. Choi before adding "he looks free, let's ask him." Alvin throws him a suspicious look but complies nevertheless. Jay's relieved. Nathalie is the second worst choice after Will, given that Jay has no doubt she would call his brother to update him on the situation if she knew he was hurt. He doesn't want to bother Will while he's away. Or maybe he doesn't want to be disappointed if Will doesn't care. He knows it's not fair to his brother to think that way, after all Will has really come around lately, but it has happened before, and this kind of stuff leaves its marks.

Fortunately Choi is not getting swamped with work right now, and he agrees easily to take a look at Jay. Alvin lets go of Jay's arm as he sits down on the gurney. As Choi begins to examine him, the older detective slips away to give Jay some privacy.

HANK - - -

Hank Voight wants to kill somebody. He wants to kill the asshole who put two bullet holes in his favorite detective, his surrogate daughter, his girl. He wants to kill his CI for not giving them sufficient information. He wants to kill Halstead, for not being there to protect her. He wants to kill himself, for not being there to protect her. He wants to kill Antonio, for being the voice of reason and telling him that shit happens, and it's nobody's fault except the asshole who shot the gun's, and Mouse is working on finding the guys responsible, and I'm going to get us some coffee do you want one? No he doesn't want a coffee. Hank wants to kill the fucking coffee.

He paces and paces in front of the OR's doors, and when he gets a call with a possible lead, Ruzek and Atwater are only too happy to jump on this lead and make a run for it.

"We'll get him, Sarge" Ruzek says as parting words.

Hank wants to say "keep him in one piece, he's mine", but all that gets out of his mouth is a guttural grunt worthy of a caveman. It doesn't matter though, because they're already gone.

When not five minutes later Mouse calls back with another address to check out, Antonio volunteers to go with Alvin. Voight looks around, but his old friend is nowhere to be seen. He vaguely remembers Alvin slipping away with a dazed Halstead. Right after he clocked him in the jaw. Voight split one of his knuckles on Halstead face, but he doesn't regret it. Halstead is Erin's partner, he's accountable for anything that happens to her. He warned them not to play house in his unit, warned them that sentimental distraction could have dire consequences, but did they listen to him? No. Even when they were not officially together, they were throwing each other these longing stares, flirting words thrown here and there, enough to build the core of a bad teenage romance novel. When trying to keep them apart only seemed to distract them more, Voight had finally caved, not willing to transfer any of the two excellent detectives to another unit. And look where that got them.

Hank slammed his hand on the vending machine in anger, startling Dawson in the process. It had been stupid of him to forgo his own rule, so, so stupid!

"Voight? I'm going to check out the address…"

"Wait" Hank grumbles, "you're not going alone. Nobody else gets shot tonight."

Eyes cast downward, Antonio nods slightly and waits as Voight gets his cell phone out.

"Al. Mouse found two leads. Ruzek and Atwater have already gone to check the first one. You Halstead and Dawson head out to the second address."

There's a small pause on the other end of the line before Alvin answers in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, almost like he's trying not to be heard by someone nearby "Yeah ok, I'll meet Antonio at the car… But Hank, Halstead's not going anywhere tonight."

"What d'you mean he's not going anywhere "

"X-rays came back. He's got three broken ribs and a broken finger. He's getting the finger splinted right now. It's his gun hand too."

Hank deflates slightly, scratches his head. "Anything else?"

"Kid's got a concussion too, apparently… His doc says he doesn't need to go for a head CT, but they want to keep him in for observation. Way I see it, he'd be more of a liability than an asset in the field today anyway…"

Hank sighs. Sure, Halstead had seemed a little banged up, even before Hank added his own dose of violence, but it didn't look that bad. Damn it, they didn't even take the time to debrief what went down in the house, it's more than a little vague, and he has no idea how Halstead managed to break more bones in one night than in all the time he's been working in intelligence.

"All right. You go with Dawson, Halstead is benched."

As soon as he hears Olinski's affirmative answer, he cuts the call and goes to sit in one of the plastic chairs. Hank puts his head in his hands, and tries to hold on to his anger. He tries to stay angry, because he can't accept the alternative. He can't crumble and fall to the floor sobbing. He can't face the fact that maybe he'll loose another child, when the earth over Justin's coffin is still not dry. He can't accept that life would be so cruel to take every one he cares about away from him, not even leaving him Erin, the one he saved. So he grabs his anger with two hands and holds on to it with all his might.

AN: thank you for reading. More to come in a few days.


	2. Chapter 2

AN : Hey guys ! Thank you for all the lovely reviews, I'm glad people are interested in this story! About the eternal debate of who's the oldest of the Halstead siblings : the first time we see Will in CPD, Jay calls him his little brother (or Will calls Jay his big brother, I don't remember exactly but you get the gist), so I'm rolling with that. It doesn't matter that much to story anyway… Without further ado, here is chapter 2.

Chapter 2

JAY – JAY –JAY

There's a knock on the door of the exam room, and both Jay and Dr. Choi turn to see Olinski's head peak inside.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh… yeah" says Jay, hastily finishing putting his shirt back on. The movement is too quick for his abused ribs and he winces. Jay tries to cover it up, but the older detective's eyes narrow slightly. Not much gets past Alvin, and Jay feels suddenly self-conscious. Alvin has a tendency to feel protective of his young teammates, and though Jay thinks it's a nice trait in general, he really doesn't know what to do with this kind of attention. He's not used to it. Halstead senior is not known for his nurturing side, and his mother was sick and frail for so long that Jay started hiding any injury from her early on, afraid that upsetting her would worsen her already weakened health. As the older brother, he had cared for Will and nursed his wounds, but it didn't work the other way around. He was and is the protector, not the protected. Hence his awkwardness when he senses Olinski's concerned gaze.

Jay tries to ignore his spinning head and carefully gets off the gurney, while keeping his splinted right hand close to his body. He's fine. He's fine so he needs to look fine. He's not the priority right now. Erin is. Finding the bastards who did this to Erin is.

Alvin steps into the room, but stops a good meter away from him, probably sensing his discomfort at the situation.

"Listen man, we got some leads. Ruzek and Atwater are already on their way to a first address. I'm going with Antonio to check out a second address…" The fact that Jay is going nowhere hangs in the silence that follows. Then Olinski adds, "If you got any news about Lindsay, you give me a call, ok? Not sure Hank is thinking straight right now…"

Jay almost scoffs. Not thinking straight is putting it lightly. "Yeah… yeah I'll let you know when we got some news. Sure."

He's looking at the ground, embarrassed not to go out in the field and help catch the guys, but relieved he can stay close to Erin. He's itching to go back to the waiting room, lest he's not there when she needs him. Intellectually, he knows there's no difference whether he's there or not, but his whole body feels the pull to be closer to her.

Olinsky looks a little too long at Jay's bruised face, scratches his head, hesitates, then adds in an even gentler voice, "Jay… Hank is… You know he doesn't mean it… He's hurting, just… Just try not to take it personally. Nobody blames you, man."

Jay looks away. He knows that's a lie right there. Knows of at least two people who don't share this point of view. But the situation was already awkward and it's steadily getting worse, so he just nods, then stops because the room is spinning. His throat is suddenly too tight, so he clears it twice before answering, "Yeah. Sure," still looking at the ground.

Alvin sighs, like he knows that Jay is not convinced, but time is of the essence so with a last "take care, man", he's gone.

Choi has witnessed the whole exchange, and it's hard to know which of the two ex-soldier is the most uncomfortable.

"So… am I good to go Doc ?"

"Actually, like I said to detective Olinski before, I'd like to keep you in for observation."

Jay raises one eyebrow and makes a face, "Can you observe me while I'm in the OR's waiting room? I mean, I'll be literally two corridors away."

It's obvious by Choi's frown that he doesn't like this, but he also knows a lost battle when he sees one. Although Jay's tone is light, his jaw is set and there's a steely glint in his eyes that promises trouble to anyone planning on getting in his way. The ER doctor rolls his eyes and agrees reluctantly. "I'll come check on you in two hours."

Jay almost flees from the room, sending one last "Thanks Doc, you're the best", and taking extra care to walk in a straight line, lest Choi goes back on his decision to let him go.

HANK – HANK - HANK

Hank's frustration grows as the hours pass. Ninety percent of the people he's stopped to ask about Lindsay know nothing, and the few people who actually know anything can only tell him that she's still in surgery. It's still something, it's still better than any sentence beginning with "We tried everything but…", and yet somehow it's not enough. At some point, out of sheer frustration, Hank briefly leaves the waiting room to get himself a much-needed coffee. He doesn't go all the way to the cafeteria, afraid that something might happen and he would not be found. No, he goes to the hallway where an automatic coffee machine serves what might pass for coffee in an alternate universe, but smells and tastes more like burnt tires mixed with dirty water. Still, despite the dubious quality of the beverage, there are two people already waiting in line before him. Five minutes later, he's walking back the way he came, the hot liquid spilling over the top of the paper cup and burning his hand every few steps.

Apparently, those five minutes were all it took for Halstead to sneak back into the waiting room. The young man is sitting stiffly on one of the chairs, eyes glued to the OR's doors, right elbow tucked against his side, probably to relieve the pressure on his ribs. His forearm and splinted hand are draped across his abdomen in a somewhat defensive posture. Didn't Alvin say something about the hospital wanting to keep him in for observation? Either Alvin got it wrong or Halstead signed himself out AMA, and Hank is pretty sure it's the latter. Fine, if Halstead wants to be careless and bull-headed about his health, that's his choice.

Hank can pinpoint the exact moment Halstead realizes he's in the room, judging by the minuscule flinch and the wary way his eyes track his movements without meeting his gaze. It's obvious the younger man is gouging his reaction to seeing him here, waiting to see if he'll pounce again. But Hank has had a few hours to calm himself down, and though he's still angry at Halstead, still blames him for what happened, he's in control. Even so, he gets a vindictive pleasure of seeing the young detective squirm in his seat. He looks uncomfortable. Good. He deserves it. Probably. Hank's still not clear on the specifics, but judging by Halstead's guilty look, Hank is sure he's entitled to his anger.

After what feels like hours of standoff, but is probably no more than a minute, Hank takes a seat as well, a few chairs away from his colleague.

They wait together in complete silence. Hank resumes harassing passing nurses and physicians every ten minutes or so, asking for updates on Erin's status. Halstead stays silent but looks up hopefully every time someone might bring them some news, only to be disappointed a few seconds later.

After a while, a young Asian doctor steps into the room and walks toward Halstead. Assuming it's about Erin, Hank quickly stands up to intercept him. He looks confused for a second, then shakes his head giving an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Sergeant Voight, I think they are still operating on her, but I don't have any news… I came to check on Jay, here."

Dr. Choi doesn't notice Hank's confused look, as he crosses over to Jay, who stands up carefully.

"All right, you know the drill, follow my finger. Ok good, now put your hands in front of you, and close your eyes…"

Hank watches the show unfold. Halstead is clearly uncomfortable doing this in public, but he gives it his best. The neurological exam is quick and would be a walk in the park for the ex-ranger under normal circumstances, but at the end there's a sheen of perspiration on his brow, and he's greener than he was before.

"Nausea?" asks Choi, clearly having noticed the same thing.

"Yeah, kinda…" Halstead's looking at the ground. "It's part of the package, right?"

"You got that right man," Choi gives him a light slap on the shoulder, "the rest looks good though, see you in a few hours then…"

Halstead nods and is about to sit back down when the OR's doors open and Dr. Rhodes comes out. He looks like he's been through hell. In a few quick steps, Hank plants himself in front of the young surgeon, and squares his shoulders, preparing himself for the worst.

Halstead is just one step behind, and the room is so quiet that Hank can hear Halstead's quick superficial breathing, can hear the moment he stops breathing altogether when Rhodes open his mouth to deliver the news.

"She got through surgery," he says simply. Rhodes seems well aware that there's no point explaining anything, as long as family, friends and loved ones don't know if the patient has survived. Hank hears Halstead release a shaky breath and he mirrors him.

Rhodes continues, "Two bullets entered her lower back, one nicked a kidney and the other almost went through, lodging itself behind her pelvis, injuring some of her intestines on the way. Fortunately, major arteries were not touched, and the bullet missed her spine. We managed to stop the bleeding and repair the damage to her organs, though part of her left kidney had to be removed. But she was in hemorrhagic shock when she came in, and because her intestines were wounded, there's a high risk of her developing peritonitis. We gave her blood and we're starting her on antibiotics, but she'll need to be kept sedated at least 24 hours, to give her body some time to recuperate."

After getting no news at all for almost four hours, both detectives are stunned by this avalanche of information.

"So," Hank interjects slowly, "she's going to be alright?"

Dr. Rhodes shifts on his feet. "It's still touch and go. Re-bleeding is still a strong possibility, and like I said, infection could also set in… We'll give it 24 hours. If she's stable after that, we'll start weaning her of the drugs and sedation. And we'll see if she wakes up…"

Hank's world crashes. "What you mean IF she wakes up"? You just said you repaired the damages, right?"

"That's right… But… You need to understand that she was in shock for a long time, first in the field, then in the OR, before we could get the bleeding under control… Her brain might have suffered from the lack of oxygen… There's no way to know yet…"

For Hank, this is a rollercoaster of emotion, and not the funny one. After the gut wrenching worry of thinking Erin might be dying, he finally gets some good news, only to learn that she might still be brain dead? And this wet-behind-the-hears surgeon dares to tell him that he has no clue whether she'll make up or not? Halstead is obviously shaken as well, as he objects, "But can't you do a head CT or something, to know?"

Rhodes shakes his head, regret and apology written on his face, "I'm sorry Jay, this is not something you can see on a scan, not at this stage anyway… It's hard, but right now the only thing we can do is wait…"

Halstead starts pacing again, agitated, a hand absently rubbing his mouth, muttering some out-of-character obscenities.

Hank gets Rhodes attention back, "Can we see her?"

"She's being set up in the ICU, one of the nurses will come to get you when she's ready."

Hank nods, and with one last sober nod of his own, Rhodes leaves the waiting room.

JAY – JAY – JAY

When the nurse comes to lead them to Erin, Jay almost jumps to his feet, forgetting his injuries, only to stop when the damned dizziness starts again. He has to wait a few seconds for the room to stop spinning. When he's ready to go again, the nurse is already walking, Voight following close behind, and Jay almost has to jog to catch up to them. A few corridors later, the nurse stops in front of a room. The door is wide open, allowing the medical staff to come and go easily, and to have a clear view of the monitors and machine screens. In the middle of all the medical hard-ware, lying prone in a hospital bed, is a woman. Even though it should be obvious, it takes Jay a few seconds to realize that this woman is Erin.

Somehow, what Jay had envisioned before seeing her, was a peacefully sleeping Erin, maybe an oxygen canula in her nose, maybe a little pale, but nothing more than that. What he sees is totally different. There's a tube down her throat to help her breath, and the rise and fall of her chest has nothing to do with a peaceful sleep and everything to do with the machine mechanically pumping air in and out of her lungs. There's a tube down her nose that Jay recognizes as a feeding tube. All of that is taped to her face. Jay knows that it's there so that it won't move, knows it's there to help Erin, but it feels intrusive anyway. Jay knows it's Erin, but he has a hard time recognizing her. There's a catheter sticking out of her neck, and what seems like thousands of little transparent tubes attached to numerous electrical syringes. Add to that the pressure cusp around her arm, the electrodes of the heart monitor, and another small oxygen captor stuck to her left index finger, and there's barely any part of Erin that's left untouched by medical equipment.

Jay glances at Voight. The older man is standing stiffly next to him, dazed, like he's just been sucker punched but is fighting to stay on his feet. And even though he's been kind of a dick to Jay during the last few hours, the young detective can't help but feel some compassion for his boss, knowing that the situation must bring back all sorts of recent bad memories from Justin's last days.

The nurse seems to realize that they won't cross the threshold on their own, struck with some kind of instant paralysis at seeing their loved one in such a dehumanizing way.

"You can come in if you want," she says, stepping into the room herself.

Jay itches to touch Erin, take her hand, stroke her face, talk to her… but he chooses to take half a step back. Despite the horror of seeing the woman he loves in this state, she's alive. He can see the mechanical rise and fall of her chest from where he stands. And somehow, that's enough to quell some of the fear in his gut. He's still worried sick about what's to come, but the sense of urgency is slowly receding. Erin is being taken care of. She's come out of the surgery. She's here, she's alive, and that has to be enough for now. It takes tremendous willpower for Jay not to push past Voight and go claim his place beside the woman he loves. But Hank Voight is Erin's father in all but name, and he's already lost one child this year. So yeah, against every cell of his body, Jay takes a step back.

Even though the older man is trying to hide his emotions, Jay can still see the surprise on Voight's face. Both man lock eyes and Jay gives a small nod. He sees the moment the older man understands that Jay is giving him the all clear to go in first, alone. Something softens in the Sergeant, his stance, or maybe the hard lines of his mouth, and Jay hears Voight's "thank you" without any word being said.

As Voight takes a seat at his stepdaughter's bedside, Jay throws one last longing look at Erin before turning around. He comes face to face with another nurse who gives him a cursory glance before asking, "Are you alright sir?"

"I'm fine." He tries to say it with a smile but his face won't cooperate.

Not wanting to engage further in the conversation, he hurries away and steps into the restroom. Jay enters the first toilet cabinet he sees, locks it and sits on the cover of the toilet. The pressure of the situation is building inside him, and he feels his eyes begin to burn. No no no no he can't crumble now… If even one of those traitorous tears finds its way out, he knows he won't be able to stop the rest of them. He breathes in and out as deeply as he can despite his broken ribs. It's shaky, but it gives him a little bit of control. Slowly, his throat unties, and he feels the edge of panic ebb away.

He gives Voight ten minutes before coming back to Erin's room. As Jay steps into the room, he clears his throat to announce his presence. Voight looks up with red-rimmed eyes, and Jay wonders if his own eyes look the same. It sure feels like it. Voight gets up slowly, making his way out of the room. When he passes by Jay, he grumbles "Back in a few," and Jay appreciates that despite everything, Voight is giving him some time alone with the woman they both love in different ways.

AN: Thanks for reading, it you liked it drop a review ! More to come in a few days.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

HANK – HANK - HANK

During the rest of the afternoon, Hank and Jay take turns sitting beside Erin. Hank calls Alvin and Antonio a few times to be updated on the advancement of the case, and Halstead makes a few calls as well when Hank's keeping Erin company. When one of them comes in, the other goes out, and the dance continues for a few hours, before Hank comes into the room to find Halstead almost passed out in his chair. His hand is holding Erin's in a lose grip and he's blinking slowly, his eyelids dropping a little more with each blink.

Hank waits for his detective to acknowledge his presence but Halstead is clearly on the brink of sleep and doesn't notice him standing there. It shouldn't come as such a surprise, they're all exhausted. They put in an all-nighter to find the connection between the drugs and the perps, and they launched their intervention at the crack of dawn.

Hank narrows his eyes at their linked fingers. There's possessiveness in this simple gesture and Hank just doesn't like it. The anger he feels at the general situation is once again directed toward the only person available, and a fresh wave of antipathy washes over Hank. He knows he's being unfair, knows that he should accept the fragile truce that was born when the young detective chose to let Hank check on Erin first. But he can't let go of his anger, not yet anyway. Because the alternative to anger is a deep, total, debilitating sorrow, one that can only be drowned in a bottle of strong liquor, one that he's not ready to feel for the second time in such a short time.

He clears his throat loudly.

Immediately and in the span of a few seconds, the younger man wakes up with a gasp, looks around disorientated, and almost loses his precarious balance on the edge of his chair. He winces as he catches himself, and if he weren't so angry, Hank might feel a tiny little bit bad. But he's angry, and he's decided that what he wants right now, is answers.

As Halstead starts to rise out of his chair, intending to leave his Sergeant alone with his girl, Hank stops him with a bark.

"Sit your ass back down."

Halstead freezes, and for a second it looks like he might get up anyway, but he takes one look at his chief's face, and seems to think better of it. He sits down on the edge of his seat, unnaturally still, eyes never leaving the prowling form of his superior. The wary look he sported in the waiting room is back, and though Hank is angry, he tries to reign himself in. He already assaulted the kid once today, and he might be pissed but he's not proud of his earlier actions. Besides, it looks like a strong gust of wind could be enough to knock out Halstead right now, the usually tall and well-built man looking ridiculously exhausted and battered. The bruises have darkened on his face and the bluish spots stand in stark contrast against the crusted blood on his cheekbone, where Hank split the skin.

Hank paces a bit more, all the while aware of Halstead's eyes following his every movement. Finally he stops and faces Jay, hands on his hips.

"Debriefing. Now."

Halstead recoils like he's been struck. "Wha… ? Now ? Sarge…"

"Yes," he cuts him off, "Now, Halstead. I want to know every second, every detail of what happened during that raid, so that I can understand how we got to this point," he says, voice steadily rising in volume, all the while gesturing at Erin's prone form.

Hank knows it might sound cruel, knows that it makes him come across as an insensitive bastard. But he also knows that the sooner they do this, the less likely Halstead is to forget important details. It's a known fact that traumatic events are accompanied by a distortion of reality. The mind plays tricks, time stretches, some memories happening in slow motion, while other elements are simply occluded, almost erased altogether. The more time passes, the less precise Halstead's recollection of the raid will be.

The young detective swallows, then steels himself. "Yes sir," comes the short reply.

Unconsciously, as he starts talking, Halstead squares his shoulders. He talks in short sentences, straight to the point, describing the action in a sterile and detached way. His back is straight. The way he's talking, it might as well have happened to someone else. He's distancing himself, dissociating from the traumatic events. It's painfully clear that Hank is asking too much too soon of his subordinate, but Halstead is talking and Hank can't bring himself to stop him.

And at the end of the day, this whole mess boils down to bad intel. There were twice as many guys as there were supposed to be on that floor. And they knew the cops were coming. Halstead and Lindsay had walked right into an ambush.

"I didn't see the guy, I only saw the iron bar coming at me. I tried to block it but it caught my hand. It made me drop my gun. We fought. He hit me behind the head. I must have been knocked out for a second or two. I woke up near my gun. I grabbed it with my left hand and shot the guy."

'Not before the guy got in a few more hits with his iron bar, if Halstead's current state is any indication,' thinks Hank.

"I heard two more gunshots coming from the next room. I rushed over there and I found Erin…" Jay pauses, his gaze still far away in the memory, but he can't manage to keep the military precision in his tone anymore.

"… I don't know where the shots came from. I didn't even see anyone leave… I think I heard someone running away but I don't…" His voice cracks, and he swallows a few times to find the strength to go on. "I couldn't… I couldn't look away from Erin, from all the blood… I radioed in and started putting pressure on the wounds but…I … I couldn't… The wounds were on her back and the blood just kept flowing… and…"

And that's when it happens. Somewhere, somehow, the dam breaks, and Hank can only watch as his detective crumbles in front of him. He watches as Jay turns toward Erin and buries his face against her arm, no longer paying attention to his boss, watches as he whispers a litany of "I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry, please be ok Erin, please come back…", watches as sobs that were held back for too long begin to break out.

The air is filled with pain, regret, self-loathing and sadness, and that doesn't leave any room for Hank's anger. It's suffocating, and it wakes some feeling in Hank that he doesn't care to examine. So he takes his anger with him and goes away. Everyone has the right to grieve in peace.

JAY – JAY – JAY

After what feels like forever, Jay gets his breathing back under control, and his blurry vision clears up. He doesn't know what he's more embarrassed about: that he just got a fucking melt down, or that his boss was there to witness it. Jay finally gets up, needing to stretch his leg, and thinking some fresh air should help clear his (concussed) head. Whispering a tender "I'll be back" to Erin's prone form, he steps out of the room, only to be intercepted by Dr. Choi.

The neurological check up is quick, Jay remembering and doing in advance what he's supposed to do. Choi seems relatively satisfied with his performance, but keeps a worried frown on his face, and reminds him once again that it would be better if he just let himself be admitted for the night. Jay brushes his concern away. He's had worse, a lot worse.

As Jay wanders toward the hospital's patio he feels drained, and strangely apathic. He feels like something should have changed now that he let it all out, but in truth nothing has changed. He's finally faced what happened, he has managed to make a semi-reliable report to Voight, he's said how sorry he was to Erin, but still the worry and nausea don't go away. Nothing has changed. Erin is still hanging between life and death. Voight is still probably planning to dump his body into the lake. And his head is still pounding, pounding, pounding.

He sends a quick text to Olinski to let him know the latest news about Erin, like he promised he would. He waits a few more minutes, body and soul aching, before making his way back to Erin's room.

HANK- HANK – HANK

At some point, there's nothing to do but wait, and Halstead looks dead on his feet, so Hank's suggestion that he goes home and gets some sleep sounds more like an order than gentle advice. Truth be told, Hank's also tired as hell and hospital rooms bring back souvenirs that he'd rather forget. When all the adrenaline is gone from his body, he understands that there is no use staying here while Erin is kept sedated. She's not going to wake up, the doctor assured him of that. So he thinks about heading home himself, and having a shower, grabbing something to eat without tasting the food, and getting some kind of rest. Halstead is a sore sight, moving slowly and stumbling as he makes his way to the corridor in a dream like state.

Hank sighs and grumbles something about dropping Halstead off at his place. The wary way the kid follows him tells Hank that he might have sounded more threatening that he wished. He feels like it's his default mode, nowadays, threatening and passive aggressive. Or just plain aggressive.

The ride to Halstead's place is silent. When they reach Halstead's apartment unit, there's no movement on the passenger's seat, and indeed Hank sees that his detective is asleep, head pressed against the window. Asleep or more likely passed out. He should wake him. Wake him. Huh. That reminds him of something…

He knows better than to touch the ex-ranger so instead he barks "Halstead!"

"Huh ?!" the kid jerks awake, half raises a fist before his eyes fully open and he sees his boss. He recoils but can't go far, already pressed against the window. The younger man finally realizes where they are and reaches for the car handle mumbling, "right, sorry. Thanks for the lift."

He's about to leave when Hank stops him. "Wait. You got someone to wake you up at regular times?"

Halstead's frown of confusion doesn't help his case. Hank is getting annoyed "Choi said someone has to wake you up every few hours. Is Will here ?"

"No. He's at a congress in Boston. But I'll… see if I can reach someone…"

One look and Hank knows he won't. He snorts. "Right." Shakes his head and gets the car moving.

"Sarge ?"

"Shut up, Halstead."

Halstead shuts up but looks more and more uncomfortable as they drive away from his apartment. Hank's cynical humor tells him his detective is wondering where he'll chose to dump his body.

Soon enough, they reach Hank's house. Halstead follows his boss tentatively into the living room, and just stands there, clearly ill at ease and unsure of what to do. The sun is setting on the horizon, giving the room a warm orange glow that contrasts with the freezing atmosphere that has settled between the two men.

Ignoring his subordinate, Hank goes straight to the kitchen, and takes a box of yesterday's lasagna out. He doesn't really feel like eating, but his stomach is hurting from having consumed only coffee in the last twelve hours. Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Halstead eat or drink anything either.

"Sit down" Hank grumbles when Halstead finally enters the kitchen. The younger man does so slowly, careful not to jostle his bruised body. The "ding" of the microwave is sharp in the otherwise silent room. Hank quickly fills two plates and places one in front of Halstead, next to a small plastic bottle filled with white pills.

"Choi gave me some meds for you. Said to take them in the middle of a meal," he adds, gesturing to the plastic bottle that Halstead is eying warily.

"I'm… uh.. I'm fine Sarge, don't need any meds… but thanks."

"Like hell you don't. You were supposed to be admitted to the hospital." Hank barks, voice raspier than usual. "Now I'm fine with you deciding not to stay, but you're going to follow the prescription the good doctor gave you. And that's final."

Halstead flushes and looks down. Hank takes it as permission to add "now eat some of that and take your damn pills, 'cause god help me I'm not in the mood to deal with your temper tantrum".

The younger man opens his mouth to argue but seems to think better of it when he sees the look his boss is giving him. 'Just fucking test me, just give me a reason,' is written all over the hard lines of Hank's face. Reluctantly, he grabs his fork and digs in, chewing slowly and looking like swallowing is a heroic act in itself.

'That's right', thinks Hank, 'for once you do what you're fucking told to do'. He knows he's not being fair, knows that Halstead is actually quite good at following orders, except maybe for the most important ones. Or any order involving Erin.

After that, dinner is a quiet affair, food is eaten, meds are swallowed, and not much is said, both men lost in their thoughts, both men worrying about Lindsay. When Halstead starts to blink a little too often and he looks like he's about to fall asleep in his half eaten lasagna, Hanks grunts "if you're done, I'll show you the couch with your name on it."

Hank has thought about inviting Halstead to sleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms. But of the two free bedrooms, one is Erin's, and Hank thinks there's no way he's going to allow Halstead to sleep in Erin's bed, call him a protective old-fashioned dad all you want. Not happening. The second bedroom is Justin's, and he's just not ready to let anybody sleep in that bed either. Justin's corpse is cold but the memory of his death is hot and alive in Hank's mind. This room is off limits. Upstairs is for family anyway, and Halstead is not part of his family. Maybe one day, if Erin makes it, but the uncertainty of Erin's future burns so bad that he doesn't want to consider it.

So he removes some cushions to make some room on one of the sofa that looks big enough for Halstead, leaves one that he can use as a pillow, and throws an afghan on it.

He doesn't wait to see if his subordinate needs anything before making his way towards the stairs, departing with a "I'll wake you up in three hours".

He thinks he hears "Thanks Sarge" but it's far away and he's already closing his bedroom's door.

AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. Up to now most of what I posted was already written, but now I'm writing this story chapter to chapter, so it might be a bit longer between each updates. More to come in a few days.


	4. Chapter 4

AN : Warning, if you're uncomfortable with people throwing up, skip the "JAY" POV and get straight to "HANK"

Chapter 4

JAY-JAY-JAY

Jay takes his boots off, lies down, and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. The meds are making him drowsy and have taken much of the pain away, though he stills feels his ribs when he breathes too deeply. Normally, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep so easily, worrying thoughts about Erin swirling around in his mind. But the meds have the same effect on him that half a bottle of whiskey would have, and he's out like a light. It's not a quiet sleep though. The events of the past twenty-four hours are replaying in grotesque dreams, characters and places being mixed up, incongruous guests making the whole thing half ridiculous and half nauseating.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, bile rising in his throat. For a few seconds, he doesn't remember where he is and he fights against the blanket trapping his legs. He finally gets his bearings, the fact that he's couch surfing in his boss' house crashing down on him. Whatever, he's got bigger problems to deal with than the awkwardness of the situation, namely finding the bathroom. The nausea is getting worse, like he knew it would, and he's not sure how long the lasagna is going to stay down.

He stumbles toward the first door he sees. It's a cupboard. Damn it. The next door is locked, and once he takes a good look at it, it can only be the door to the basement, which, incidentally, is the last place Jay wants to visit in this house. Voight's basement. Jay scoffs inwardly. Stuff of nightmares.

The third door leads to the bathroom and it's a relief because he can't control it anymore. Jay throws himself on his knees in front of the toilet just as the first heave rips through his body. He's half aware that not all of it made it into the toilet, and ain't that going to be fun to explain to Voight, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it as his stomach keeps on emptying itself. Each heave is agony for his broken ribs, and it feels like it lasts an eternity. When there's nothing to throw up anymore, he dry-heaves a few more times, and those might be the worst because his chest's muscles are cramping and refusing to relax, adding more stress to his ribs. He's panting, trying to breathe through the pain although breathing hurts just as much. He's so lost in the agony of it all, that he isn't prepared for the hand that falls on his shoulder. Jay jerks away harshly and falls on his ass, back against the wall, shaky hands raised into fists.

In front of him, his boss is standing, stern as fuck. "Sorry," Jay croaks through his burning throat as he lowers his hands, as embarrassed by his defensive reflexes as by the whole mortifying situation, "didn't hear you come in." Then he lowers his eyes to the floor, sees some vomit on it, and adds weakly "carefull about the… uh… the mess…"

"Don't worry about it," grunts Voight.

"I'm gonna clean this up…" Jay starts to get up but Voight pushes him back down on the floor.

"I said not to worry about it. You're shaking… Bet you're dizzy too. Just take a minute."

Jay nods, grateful to have a moment to gather himself, even though the bathroom floor is not the most comfortable. Voight leaves without a word and comes back a few seconds later with a glass of water.

"Think you can manage some water?" Voight's careful to make it sound like a neutral question, and not like a challenge, as he hands Jay the glass. The water sloshes a bit inside the glass as Jay's shaking hand takes it.

"Guess we're going to find out" says Jay as he takes a minuscule sip. The water is cold and soothes his throat. He takes a few more tentative sips but doesn't want to risk more and puts the glass down on the floor.

Voight nods like Jay's done something right, says "I'm gonna get you a clean shirt," and leaves once again.

Jay thinks it's strange how Voight seems weirdly okay with what's going on. He knows Voight can be considerate, when he wants to be, with his coworkers. He knows he sometimes shows kindness, to friends and strangers alike, despite his usual gruff demeanor. But the contrast with the way he's been treating Jay since Erin got shot is so stark that he wonders if he's not stuck in another weird dream.

As the shaking subsides, Jay sighs and attempts to get his shirt off, which is no easy feat with only one functioning hand and busted ribs. He doesn't know how long Voight plans on remaining civil, how long his boss' anger is going to be kept at bay, but he hopes it can last at least until he's feeling a little less vulnerable.

When he finally manages to get his shirt off, he looks at the ruined garment, littered with dried blood and fresh vomit, deems it irrecoverable, looks at the puddle of puke on the floor, and thinks 'Oh well…'

HANK-HANK-HANK

Hank gets into Justin's room and takes a deep breath. The sound of Halstead throwing up woke him up before the alarm he had set to go check on him. With sleep still clouding his mind, for a moment he didn't remember who was in the house with him. As sad as it might be, the sound of retching has been associated with every important person in his life. He remembers jumping from bed to help his wife, as the chemotherapy made her unable to keep anything down. He remembers berating a teenage Justin as he was paying the price for his first binge-drinking party. And he remembers holding Erin's hair as she was detoxing in these very same toilets. Man, who knew he would have so many memories associated to this bathroom.

He opens the chest of drawers and choses as quickly as possible the most generic clothes he can find. Black t-shirt. Grey hoodie. Nothing with a logo. Nothing that might remind him of Justin. Clothes that could have been Halstead's all along. He's got too many things on his plate, and no time to take a painful trip down memory lane.

When Hank comes back, Halstead is trying to mope some of the vomit of the floor with the sad remains of his shirt. In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, Halstead's bruises stand out in full display, and it's worse than he thought. Halstead's arms and torso are molted with blue and green bruises, the worst of it appearing almost black where Jay broke a few ribs. It's unsettling. When it was covered by the long sleeved shirt, it was easy to forget the beating his young detective took, easy to concentrate only on Erin's grievous injuries and overlook her partner's state. Shit, he punched the kid too. What a mess...

Hank rubs his mouth. Okay, first thing first.  
"Leave that here," he says, gesturing toward the shirt. "Feel like you can stand ?"  
"Yeah..." It's the truth too, judging by the way the tremors are not so visible anymore. Some color has returned to Halstead's face.

They make their way to the living-room, Hank hands his detective the clean clothes and goes to grab his jacket. Halstead is already putting the t-shirt on, as quickly as his splinted hand allows, as Hank declares that they're going to the hospital.  
Jay's head shots up, "did something happen with Erin?"

The worry that has been latent through the whole evening is cranked up to a hundred as Halstead misinterprets his words. Hank shakes his head, "Not that I know of. We're going to get you looked at."  
Halstead frowns "Choi already checked me out."  
"Yeah well that was before you decided to puke your guts out. I might not be a doctor but I know that can mean something is bleeding in your brain. We're not risking it."  
Hank begins to shrug his jacket on but Halstead shakes his head slowly.

"Wait, Sarge, that has nothing to do with that..."  
"What d'you mean?"  
Halstead scratches the back of his head "It's nothing... we don't need to go to the hospital for that..."  
Hank's patience is wearing thin.  
"If that's the best you got, we're going."  
"It's the meds," cuts Jay.  
The meds. What the hell. Hank sinks into the nearest armchair and gestures for Halstead to sit as well. "Explain."  
The young man sits slowly, clears his throat and starts to explain, not meeting is boss's eyes.  
"The painkillers, they always give me nausea, sometimes I throw up. Added to the concussion, it was bound to happen. It's nothing to worry about..." the more he talks, the more agitated he gets. "I'm sorry about the mess... I can understand if you don't want to deal with that. I'll just call a cab to get back to my place."

Hank huffs in annoyance. If he's worried enough about Halstead to suggest a trip to the hospital, he's certainly not going to send him off to deal with this shit alone in the middle of the night. Just because he's angry doesn't mean he wants Jay dead. He thought he had made that clear by bringing him to his house to look after him. Not that clear apparently. Jay's finally putting the hoodie on, struggling to zip it up.  
"So," says Hank, choosing to ignore Halstead's last comment, "earlier, the reason you didn't want to take the meds, is because you knew that would happen?"  
A pause. "Yeah…"  
"But you took them anyway," adds Hank.

Halstead sighs and there's a hint of annoyance in the action, "It's not like you gave me a whole lot of options. It was easier this way."

Huh. Easier to inflict that on himself than to try and talk to him. What the hell ? Hank takes a moment to look at his detective, really look at him. Despite the defiance in his voice, he's slightly curled on himself. It might look like his feet are flat on the ground, but the sole of his right foot is raised. His right arm is pressed against his ribs, and his left arm is resting on his knee in what could pass for a nonchalant pose but Hank knows better. In fact Hank is going to test his theory right now. Without warning, the older man stands up and takes a step toward Halstead. The reaction is instantaneous. Jay springs up, surprisingly fast considering the state of his ribs, and quickly puts some distance between his boss and him. He covers his retreat by making it look like he was going to get his jacket, and as he puts it on he blurts out "Well, I'll get out of your hair then…"

'Huh,' thinks Hank 'so that's what it is.'

"Jay, wait up." The younger man freezes, and Hank isn't sure if it's because he's used his given name or because his voice is softer than it's been for the last twenty-four hours, but he takes the opportunity to put his hand on Jay's shoulder and stir him back toward the living room. If he hadn't been expecting it, he would have missed the minuscule flinch when his hand made contact. Gently but firmly, he leads him back to the couch.

"You're not going anywhere. At least not until we clear some things up."

Halstead sits down, and if he looked ready to bolt before, it's nothing compared to how nervous he looks rights now.

Hank clears his throat. Shit, he's bad at this. What he's good at, is intimidation. He has a fucking PhD in how to scare the crap out of people. But putting people at ease, it's not his forte. 'You're lying to yourself', says a little voice in the back of his head 'you gained Erin's trust, in fact you gained the trust of a number of street kids, so you know how to do this.' But that's different. He's never viewed Halstead as one of his kids. One of his men, sure, an efficient sniper, a good detective, a well-balanced man (most of the time). Looking at him now, Hank thinks it's time to change his approach. Maybe it's his vulnerability, or maybe it's Justin's clothes on him, but Halstead looks younger tonight. Tonight, he looks like one of his street kids, out of his luck, and waiting for the night to get worse.

Hank braces himself for what he has to say.

"Jay, we've had a long day, and right now, what I need you to understand, is that I am not going to hurt you."

Halstead raises an eyebrow in obvious disbelief.

"Sarge, all due respect, but it's pretty obvious you've been hitching to finish what you started in the waiting room…" It's probably exhaustion that makes Jay's tongue loosen up, but he adds in a tired voice, "I understand why you're angry at me, believe me I'm angry at myself. And I know you need to … uh… get it out of your system. But I was just hoping we could do this another day… because honestly I'm not sure I can take it right now." He sounds so resigned that Hank is speechless for a minute.

When he finds his voice again, Hank speaks slowly, letting the words sink in.

"You didn't hear me, so I'm going to say it again: I . am not. going to. hit you. Or purposefully hurt you."

Jay nods and sinks a little deeper in the cushions of the couch, losing some the tension, but it's clear he's still not buying it.

Hank sighs. He feels very old suddenly. But he soldiers on. Things have to be said, amends need to be made, even if the words are like sandpaper in his mouth "I'm sorry I punched you, earlier. I was angry at the situation, and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve it. It was not fair of me."

Hank waits for his detective to raise his head and meet his eyes , before asking, "Do you understand me ?"

"Yes sir," the answer comes easily, though Hank is not sure whether his apology has been accepted. Halstead looks like if he could disappear under the cushions he would, and it's pretty obvious he would agree with anything Hank says in order for this conversation to be over more quickly.

"Good. Now, you're telling me you don't need to go to the hospital, and I'm gonna take your word on it. But just to be on the safe side, can you show me the neurological tests Choi had you do at the hospital?"

Jay complies. His balance is good, there's no loss of strength, sensations are the same in both sides of his body, and his short term memory is good too. Though Halstead looks exhausted, Hank is reasonably sure his detective is not going to drop dead during the night.

"Ok, that's good. No hospital then."

Jay looks relieved.

"Is there any painkiller that you tolerate ?"  
"Tylenol and Ibuprofen are ok. Anything stronger than that and I'll probably redecorate your bathroom again." Hank is glad to hear a bit of spark come back in the kid's voice.  
"All right. You stay here, I'll see what I can find."  
It's not long before he's back with a few Tylenols and the glass of water that had been discarded in the bathroom. Halstead takes them gratefully, without question and Hank takes back the glass when it's empty.

"You know," the older detective finally says, "if anyone is at fault in what happened, it's me." Jay opens his mouth to argue but Hank cuts him off, "I'm the leader of this team. It's my job to take care of everybody on my team. It's my job to protect all of you. That includes Erin. That includes you too, Halstead. Believe me I'm not proud of the way I handled things yesterday at the hospital."

Jay nods, silent. Hank is about to leave, but suddenly it's important that Jay understands what kind of man he is. He doesn't know why he needs the younger man to know that, he doesn't know why he cares. Usually he's fine with people assuming he's always a hard-ass, and the fear of violent retribution is something he's used on countless perps, but never on his family, never on his team. Almost against his will, the words get out of his mouth, "you know, I never raised a hand on any of my kids." Fuck if he knows why he needs to tell Halstead that. Looks like Halstead's tongue is not the only one that gets loosened by his exhaustion.

Halstead half-shrugs with the arm that's not currently pressed to his ribs, "Funny, my dad never hit Will either."

And if that's not a loaded comment, Hank doesn't know what is. He's always known Jay and his father didn't get on, it has been made obvious on a few occasions. But this small comment shades a new light to the history there. It also explains their current situation and misunderstandings. Jay looks like if he could take the words back, he would, so Hank does not pursue the matter.

"Ok, now get some rest," he says and he turns to leave. He hears Halstead kick of his shoes and it's enough for him to assume the younger man is not going to follow through on his idea to call a cab and drag himself home. Hank gets into his room but leaves the door open, straining to hear if any suspicious sound comes from downstairs. He doesn't hear anything. But he's not ready to go to sleep. He's uneasy about what happened with Halstead earlier and he needs some time to process the whole day.

After thirty minutes of introspection, he treads lightly down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaking steps, and makes his way to the kitchen. If Halstead asks, he'll tell him he needed a glass or water. Or he'll tell him what he does in his own house is none of his damned business, more likely. But Jay is asleep, dead to the world, the little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth a testament that he's not faking. Hank hesitates, takes he blanket, puts it back, takes it again and thinks 'what the hell, no one's there' before spreading it on top of Halstead. His detective doesn't stir, and Hank goes back to his room, where sleep finally claims him.

AN: Thank you for reading ! I tried to keep everyone in character, but I'm not sure I succeeded…


	5. Chapter 5

AN/ Hey everybody, here is the next chapter, from Jay's POV. It's a bit smaller than my other chapters :It was going to be followed by another one of Hank's POV but I chose to cut it so that it didn't make a monster chapter, and you could have your update earlier (as someone nicely reminded me that they were still waiting for next chapter *wink*). Update will be slower because I'm writing this from scratch now. I expect this story will be about seven chapters long, plus an epilogue, unless I get another idea that I want to develop.

As always thank you to everybody who read, and special thanks to those who reviewed, it means the world to me to know you liked it/ or what you think of this story.

Chapter 5

JAY – JAY – JAY

Jay wakes up to the smell of coffee and the distant sound of Voight talking on the phone in the kitchen. He takes a moment to make a global evaluation of his body. His face is hurting, skin pulled tight against his bruises, but his head is not pounding anymore, and the nausea is gone. A major improvement. His ribs are still killing him, but that's nothing new, he knows from previous experience that it's going to take at least a few weeks for him to be able to breathe without pain. As for his hand, it's just a dull throb, as long as he doesn't try moving it. Good thing it's in a splint, there's not much he can do to make it worse this way.

Though he feels much better than the previous day, he still feels like he could sleep for a week. It's not surprising, given that Voight has woken him up every three hours. To be fair, his boss has only asked him a few questions each time, his name, where he was, what the date was and such, allowing him to fall back to sleep a few minutes later, but still he feels like the night has been really short. Without meaning to, Jay's mind drifts back to the conversation that preceded it all. Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it. Refusing to dwell deeper on the subject, Jay pushes himself off the sofa with a groan and makes his way to the kitchen.  
Voight barely glances at him as he enters the room, still in the middle of a phone call. The older man absentmindedly puts an empty mug in front of him and Jay takes it as permission to pour himself some coffee.  
The black liquid warms his throat and Jay feels like a second life is imbedded in his limbs with each sip he takes.

Voight grunts a "Later" before ending the call. He takes an appraising look at Jay and wordlessly puts two pills next to his coffee mug. Jay recognizes the Tylenol and swallows them immediately with a large gulp of coffee. 'So,' thinks Jay 'looks like last night really happened then'. He thought he had dreamed Voight's change of character, but obviously, his boss is still intent on making amends. Jay has known Voight for a few years, enough to know that small gestures are usually his way of apologizing, or mending bridges. Action always seems to come easier than words to this man. Curiously, instead of making Jay more at ease, it has the opposite effect.

As a child and a teen, Jay has never considered he was living in an abusive home. Sure, his dad slapped him around some times, a push here, a shove against the wall there, but nothing dramatic. Just enough to make him cautious around the man, and to develop a deep sense of injustice and betrayal from time to times, when he thought he really had not deserved it. It didn't look like anything you might expect when people talked about abuse. He didn't show up at school with a black eye every other day. His dad never sent him to the hospital. He wasn't whipped either, not like the kid next door who had scars on his back he didn't like to talk about.

A few times though, it got a little out of hand. Jay remembers each of those times very clearly, like it happened yesterday. When open-handed slaps had become punches, or when he had slammed against the wall so hard he had been dizzy for a whole day. There were always two key components to these episodes. Anger and alcohol. Jay had learned after the first time to carefully evaluate his dad's degree of anger, and to get Will out of the room if it reached a certain level. Though it had happened a couple of time when he was still a child, most of those occurrences had happened when he was in his teens, already grown up but without the muscles or the training he has now. It became more frequent when his mother got sick, his father oscillating between sadness and anger. From time to times, when his father had really gone too far, he would be particularly careful with him the next day. He never talked about what happened, but he would have a small uncharacteristic attention for him, like preparing a big breakfast, or reminding him to put a hat on 'cause it was cold outside. Though his dad was never the cuddly type, he was often softer after Jay had taken the brunt of his anger. Jay, for his part, was usually too angry himself to appreciate the gesture, and too realistic to hope it would last. It had never stopped his dad from doing it again anyway. The last time it happened was just after Jay's mother's death. Both men were grieving, Jay was not a skinny kid anymore, and when the inevitable fight broke out, Jay gave as much as he got, if not more. After that, they had kept their distance, his father never contacted him, and Jay reached out to his father only in case of dire necessity, until the whole fiasco with his dad's heart failure had occurred.

The parallel to his current situation is so obvious he doesn't know what to make of it. Old habits have come running back. He can't help but watch Voight more closely, can't help but try and smell if he's had any alcohol. It's so ingrained in him, that it takes him a few seconds to realize he's been discreetly sniffing the air. But Voight looks as peaceful and sober as he can be given the situation, and Jay relaxes minutely.

"Any news ?" he asks

"Just got off the phone with Antonio. They're closing in on them. It won't be long before they regret the day they were born." Jay is frustrated not to be able to help, but he knows he would only be a liability in the field right now. So instead he says , "so, what's the plan?"

"We're going to the hospital to check on Erin, then I'll go to the precinct." And that's all he says on the subject.

After a shower that helps him wash away the grit of the previous day, Jay gets into the car next to his boss, clean and warm, and he starts feeling more like himself again.

When they get to the ICU, they are welcomed by a young blond nurse who looks like she's fresh out of high school. She's smiling as she enthusiastically explains that Lindsay's status is looking good, she's not in shock anymore, and the mild sepsis she had developed is already receding with the antibiotics.

Jay lets out a breath of relief and he can hear Voight do the same. Things are looking up.

They barely get into Erin's room, that Voight turns to face Jay. "You need to go and see Dr. Choi. I'll keep Erin company while you're getting checked out," he says before turning around to sit in the chair beside Erin.

That leaves no room for argument, and anyway, Jay thinks he owes Voight at least that. After all, the man had worried about him, had even tried to make him go to the hospital in the middle of the night, so the least he can do is oblige him and see a doctor while he's there. It is a strange feeling, having Voight worry about him. When Jay's mother used to worry about him, she always looked shaken, sicker than she already was, and it made him feel guilty. He would have done anything not to make her worry. Including hiding dubious injuries. When Will worries about him he is nagging and downright annoying. 'He usually worries about the wrong thing anyway, and ignores what's important' thinks Jay, a bit unfairly. When his father is worried about him – because he is, sometimes – he rarely tries to address the problem. The few times his father actually tried, it had resulted in a shouting match, both men too proud to actually talk it out, and one of them storming out and not speaking to the other for days afterwards.

But Voight's worry is different. Voight's worry is akin to being watched by a hawk, it's like even when his boss's gaze is not on him, Jay feels observed. It's unsettling, so when Hank gives him meds, tells him to eat, stops him from standing up when he's still dizzy, or asks him to go and see a doctor, he doesn't put up a fight. He obeys, in part because he hopes it will alleviate the weight of Voight's constant surveillance. In part because it's his boss and it's hard to say no to him. In part because it's Voight's way of showing kindness, and he doesn't want to throw it back in his face. And a small part of him has to admit, sometimes it's fucking nice to have someone call the shots for him. Jay is a pro at taking care of other people, but he's downright awful at taking care of himself.

When Jay finally finds Choi in the middle of the chaos that is the emergency room, the young doctor looks relieved to see him.

"I wasn't sure you were gonna show up. How're you feeling?"

"Much better. The nausea is gone, the headache as well, I'm not dizzy anymore… So yeah, the rest is pretty much just bumps and bruises."

Choi raises an eyebrow. "And broken bones," he adds.

Jay smirks "what broken bones?"

The doctor chuckles. He conducts a cursory neurological exam and seems satisfied with the results.

"You're in the clear, man. Try not to hit anything with that hard head of yours for a few months."

"Where's the fun in that ?" answers Jay cheekily before thanking him and hurrying back to Erin's room.

"So?" asks Voight, face devoid of emotion.

"It's all good. The concussion is gone, head's as hard as ever." Jay doesn't know if it's a trick of the light, but it looks like Voight's posture relaxes a little.

"Good," he grunts, "I'm gonna head to the district. We're catching these guys today." There's a sadistic glint in his sergeant's eyes, a feral anticipation of the violence he's planning on inflicting. Jay shares the sentiment.

"Wish I could be there," he says, bitter not to be able to dish out some retribution himself.

Unexpectedly, Voight smiles. It's a cold, hard smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and it's scary as fuck. "I'll be sure to let them know you say 'hi'." And Jay knows that anything he could have done to those guys, it's nothing compared to what's awaiting them at the hand of Erin's father.

AN : Thank you for reading !


	6. Chapter 6

AN : Hey everybody. Here is the next chapter. There's some medical talk in there but I tried to keep it to a minimum. On another matter, this chapter ended up being longer than it was supposed to be, so in short you stilll have at least two more intallments to look forward to, and an epilogue.

As always thanks a lot to those who took the time to read, and special thanks to those who reviewed. You guys are awesome ! I'm glad to see some of you seem to share a few of my head-canons for Jay.

Happy Reading !

Chapter 6

HANK – HANK – HANK

Hank feels a savage satisfaction as the door of the cell slams shut in front of the perp with a soothing finality. They caught them, all of them. He even had the occasion to alleviate some of his anger when some of them *cough* resisted arrest *cough*. His bruised knuckles feel good, they feel like justice and vengeance. They feel right. He gets back to his office, sinks in his chair, and sends a quick text to Halstead to let him know it's over.  
They got the guys, hands deep in a several kilos of cocaine. One of them has already confessed to being part of a much larger drug ring. The case is wrapped. It feels almost anti-climactic. Now Hank can't wait to get back to the hospital.  
Halstead informed him earlier that Erin was doing so well that they had stopped giving her sedatives, intending to try and wake her up sooner than they had initially planned. The young detective had sounded hopeful and excited on the phone, but hours have gone by without any news and Hank is starting to worry again. Shouldn't she be awake by now?

Grabbing his jacket, he gets out of his office and into the bullpen where his team-members are dutifully writing their reports.

"Good job everybody today," Hank says, letting his gaze rest on each of them for a few seconds, making sure not to forget anyone, "Finish writing up your reports, I'm heading back to the hospital."

"Any news ?" Atwater asks softly, barely daring to speak. Alvin has been kept in the loop by both Halstead and Hank, but the others have kept their distance from the subject. Not by lack of concern, but rather to avoid being distracted during the bust. And probably also to avoid having their heads ripped off by Hank.

"Things are looking up. But we're still waiting for up to wake up."

Everybody nods, used to Hank's laconic answers and not daring to press for more. The atmosphere is still dark, everybody conscious that although they had a win today, it doesn't mean their coworker and friend is out of the woods yet.

With one last glance at his team, Hank leaves the precinct.

When he gets to Erin's room, Jay greets him with a tentative smile and a "she started moving a bit." She's still totally out of it, but a few twitches of her fingers corroborate Halstead's words. Hank sinks in the other chair just as the other man says "well, I'm going to stretch my legs." Hank doesn't doubt that Jay has been sitting in silent vigil the whole time he's been there, so he doesn't try to stop him. Some fresh air will do the kid some good.

Halstead gets up and stumbles a bit. He catches himself on the edge of the bed before righting himself and heading toward the door. Hank narrows his eyes.

"Thought you weren't dizzy anymore. You said Choi gave you the all clear," Hank barks, a hint of accusation in his voice. If the kid lied to him, god damn it…

"He did," Jay says, rubbing at his forehead, "I just got up too quickly. Been sitting in this chair for a few hours now…"

"Huh… You eaten yet ?"

"Er… No, they said she could wake up any moment now… Didn't want her to be alone…"

Hank is not impressed. If Halstead is functioning only on this morning's black coffee and the few bites of yesterday's lasagna that didn't end up in the toilet, it's no wonder he's dizzy, with or without concussion.

"Go get yourself something to eat," Hank knows to make it sound like an order. He's starting to feel that the only way this kid is going to take care of himself is if it's been specifically ordered by a superior. He doesn't know if Halstead's behavior stems out of love, guilt, a sense of duty, or all of the above, but something needs to be done about his recent lack of self-preservation instinct. Even though Hank has to admit, he's glad Erin has found someone so loyal to her. After the shitty luck Erin's had in her life, it's nice to know chance has brought her someone right for her. For all the shit he gave them when they first got together, he has to acknowledge that Erin could have chosen worse, much worse. Not that he's ready to say that to Halstead's face.

"Er… okay… Want me to get something for you ?"

"Yeah, why not." Hank's stomach is actually growling. Though contrary to the younger man he did eat something today, the bust has left him ravenous.

"Anything specific ?"

"I'm good with anything you find."

Jay nods and ducks out of the room.

As soon as Jay is gone, Hank sits closer to Erin and grabs her hand.  
"We got them, Erin. All of them."

The steady bip of the heart monitor is his only answer. "You can wake up now kid, you're safe."

Hank takes a moment to properly look at her. The pasty white skin from yesterday has been replaced by a healthier shade of pink. Her hair is greasy and untidy, and he knows she's going to complain when she'll have to undo the knots. Her hands twitch from time to times, and someone had the foresight to tie her wrists loosely to the bed so that she cannot remove the tube that's currently helping her breath. Hank hates the sight of those bindings, but he understands their necessity. All the more reason to be there when she wakes up, to help her calm down.

After a while, after Jay has come back with food and their stomachs are once again nicely full, they sit together in the room, and a comfortable silence settles. It's a far cry from the tense wariness of the previous day and Hank is relieved to see Halstead looking more like himself. If he bypasses the dark bruises on the young man's face, he can almost convince himself the last twenty-four hours didn't happen.

The sudden shrill sound coming from the ventilator breaks the quiet moment and both men jump to their feet as Erin starts coughing against the tube in her throat. It makes no sound, the breathing tube effectively muting her but the way her neck arches periodically, eyes scrunched shut with a pained frown on her forehead sends a wave of panic through them. The alarm won't stop bipping as Erin fights the machine that is breathing for her, and jay quickly pass his head through the door to yell "we need some help over here!" before rushing back to her side, where Hank is trying to reach through to her.

"Erin! Erin, listen to me! Calm down, don't fight it!"

Jay strokes her forehead and grips one of her hands, but neither sound nor touch seems to get through to her.

After what feels like an eternity, a tired looking resident comes strolling through the door. He looks at the scene in a slightly disinterested way and, without rushing, and punches a few buttons on the ventilator. The alarms stop, and Erin relaxes back on the mattress. When it looks like the resident is going to leave without a word of explanation Hank feels a rush of annoyance and has to check his tone to remain civil as he asks, "Hey doc, what was that about?"

The young dark haired man stops and looks at him, slightly haggard, like he only just noticed he is not alone in the room. Hank wonders how many night shifts this doctor has accumulated to reach this level of disconnection. It doesn't really inspire a lot of confidence.

"Oh, she was fighting the vent, breathing over it because she's waking up. I've changed the setting so that the machine is not imposing the breathing rhythm anymore. Now she can trigger the machine whenever she wants so it feels a lot more natural and comfortable."

Hank takes a minute to process the news. "So, it's actually good news?" He wants to have the confirmation before allowing himself to be relieved. The doctor nods slowly, looking for all the world like if he could say "duh" he would. Hank gets the growing desire to throttle the dork.

"Can't you just take the tube out then?" Halstead asks, who is still clutching Erin's hand like she might disappear any minute.

"We will, eventually, but right now breathing on her own without the vent would be too tiresome for her. I'll check back on her in a bit to see if we can take the tube out then, if she's more alert." At this stage, the young resident has finally picked up on the murderous vibes emanating from Hank's body, and he makes a hasty retreat. 'Wise choice', thinks Hank, who's starting to think that it's not the bullet of a perp that will end him - like he always thought - but the stress and worry of dealing with idiots and caring for his kids... er… colleagues... some of them managing to fall into both categories.

During the next few hours, Erin becomes steadily more alert, but remains thankfully calm, now that the machine is not fighting against her. She's still pretty out of it but she manages to follow simple orders, and finally the doctors decide it's time to remove the tube. Hank and Jay are asked to leave the room while they do it, and when Halstead looks like he's going to argue, the older man stirs him toward the hallway saying, "Come on Halstead, let them to their job."

When they're allowed to come back, Erin looks tired but very much awake, and more herself than she's been for the past forty-eight hours. Her brow is smooth, no visible line of pain on it, and she's looking around her like she's wondering what she's doing here.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Jay asks softly as he retakes his place beside her, Hank following suit on the other side of the bed.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she says, voice raspier than usual. "I' don't really remember what happened… Tell me I didn't really get hit by a truck," she adds, only half joking.

"No truck. Perp got you twice in the back, below the vest, kid," says Hank.

"Damn," she winces a little but it's not clear whether it's from actual pain or because she's imagining herself getting shot, "I don't really feel much right now, but I bet that's going to hurt when the good drugs stop working… Speaking of…" Erin trails of, looking at Hank in a pointed way. The older detective knows quite well that even just waking up from a coma, his adopted daughter is afraid of going back down the rabbit hole and letting the drugs take control of her life.

"Don't worry kid, I'll tell them. You don't worry about a thing, for now you just concentrate on getting better," Hank says in a strangled voice, as his hand is rubbing small soothing circles on her shoulder. The relief of Erin being awake and all right is so strong that his throat doesn't seem to work properly. For once in his goddamn life, his prayers have been answered. He doesn't know what to make of that. He's gotten so used to life kicking him in the teeth, that he feels like this unexpectedly favorable outcome just disrupted the axis of his world. Good things have stopped happening around him a long time ago, and he can't help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

Hank gets pulled out of his musing by the sound of a phone vibrating. It's not his, and he looks away from Erin to see Halstead hastily turn it off. A few seconds pass, and it starts again.

"You should probably take that," Erin points out. Jay lets it go to voicemail.

"Nah, it can wait. I've been waiting forever for you to wake up, anything else can wait," he adds with a smile, eyes wide like he can't believe either how lucky they are that she pulled through.

"Might be important," she says. "Besides, I'm not sure I'm going to be such good company," she yawns widely.

"You're more important," Jay asserts, a mulish frown coming to rest on his features. "And how can you be tired, you literally just woke up?" teases Jay good-naturedly.

"Well, you try getting shot twice in the back and we'll see how you fare," she teases back with a smile, rolling her eyes. Suddenly her mood darkens and she adds more quietly, "Seriously though, you didn't get shot, right?"

He shakes his head, smirking, "No, I'm obviously much better at dodging bullets than you."

"Yeah well, it makes up for your horrendous hand-to-hand skills, if the bruises on your face are any indication," she shoots back, not missing a beat.

The temperature of the room seems to drop a few degrees as Halstead is speechless for a few seconds before replying, "er… yeah, perp got me good too… Though it was less hand-to-hand and more hand-to-iron bar. Nothing life-threatening, only thing that got hurt are my pride and my good-looks," he tries to joke. Jay fidgets a little in his seat, as he seems to make a conscious effort not to look at Hank. The older man is silent, waiting to see how Jay will handle the subject. He doesn't miss the fact that the younger man's default mode is to downplay his injuries, and omit Hank's part in it. Though it wouldn't do to upset Erin in her fragile state, the lie of omission leaves a sour taste in Hank's mouth. He kinda wants to shake Jay and tell him it's not a secret, he did it in front of the whole goddamn team. It's bound to come up, so he doesn't need to cover for his boss.

"Ouch", Erin winces in sympathy, oblivious to the sudden tension in the room, "that how you hurt your hand too?"

"Yeah," Jay says, looking like he hoped she wouldn't notice, "bastard broke one of my fingers."

"Hope you caught the bastards who did this."

"Well I shot him so I'd say he didn't get the last laugh."

"With a broken finger ?" Erin raises an eyebrow, and there's a challenge in this single action.

"Other hand," Jay answers a bit smug, with a wink.

"And we got the guy who shot you in custody," Hank adds, "as well as the rest of his crew."

Just then, a bip comes from Halstead's phone and the young man glances down at the screen.

"You've got to be kidding me "

"Problem?" Erin asks, frowning as she sees her partner's murderous face.

Jay looks torn as he meets her eyes and in the blink of an eye his face turns from murderous to apologetic,  
"I'm sorry, I have to call Will back."

"Hey, don't let me stop you," Erin says with a minuscule shrug, "told you it might be important."  
Jay dares give her a small peck on the lips and mutters, "be right back," before slipping out of the room.

The small kiss leaves a dreamy smile on Erin's lips, and Hank knows she must really be high as a kite to let her emotions play across her face so openly, especially in front of him. Then she turns towards Hank and raises a questioning eyebrow.  
Hank shrugs, "No clue what that's about."

He waits a few seconds, before using the opportunity of Halstead not being in the room to say, "You scared us, you know? Scared me." His throat is closing on his words. "Thought I was gonna lose you too..."  
This time it's Erin who clumsily grabs his hand.

"I'm right here Hank, I pulled through. M'not going anywhere."

And fuck if he's not coming undone right now. The stress of the previous days has caught up with him, and a few tears escape as he repeats like a broken mantra, "I can't lose you, kid, not you too," and Erin answers every one of his raspy prayers with an even raspier "I'm here, I'm right here."

It takes the hardened detective a few minutes to compose himself. To accept that this nightmare is coming to an end. Sure, Erin still has a long way to go before she makes a full recovery, but she survived the worst of it, there's no reason she won't survive the rest.

Just as Hank brushes away the last remnant of the few tears that managed to escape, a nurse enters the room and announces that visiting time is over. Hank nods, squeezes Erin's hand one last time and tells her he's going to get Jay so he can say goodbye.

In the waiting room, Jay is whispering harshly in his phone, trying not to be too loud, but it's obvious that if he could he would be yelling.

"No, Will, I told you, I'm not doing it!" Au pause, a frustrated sigh. "I just got of the phone with Consuela, she doesn't even want to come by tomorrow! You know as well as me that woman is a saint, I don't even want to know what he said to her to make her give up on him."

Jay starts pacing as Will is answering something that Hank can't hear. The young man gets more agitated by the minute, tries to scratch his head with his splinted hand then stops with a wince, starts arguing once more on the phone but Will must be relentless because Jay can hardly get a word in.

"You know what, fine," he finally says, "I'll go over there and see what his problem is, but that's the only time I'm dealing with his shit!"

Jay hangs up on his brother without waiting for an answer, and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, at least as deep as his cracked ribs allow.

"Jay," Hank says softly, feeling like he's interrupting but having no other choice, "visiting hours are almost over. If you want to say goodbye to Erin, now is the time."

Jay nods, paces a bit more, then says, "Yeah, sure," and leaves the room to do just that.

When Halstead comes back a few minutes later, he seems less angry but just as frustrated. Hank opts to wait until Jay chooses to talk. It takes a few more seconds of pacing before he sinks in one of the chairs and buries his head in his hands, groaning, "urg... I so don't want to do this."  
Hank waits for Halstead to say more but nothing comes so he probes as gently as he can, "Do what?"

Jay bites his lip, like he's trying to stop the words from escaping his mouth. Finally he says, "my dad. Will wants me to go check on him. Apparently his nurse called Will and told him he was refusing to take his meds and even refusing to let her in... He might have called her names… In short, he's being a major asshole."

Jay is slumped against the back of the chair, looking like he's got no intention of moving anytime soon, as if the mere thought of the mission awaiting him were preventing him from standing, or even sitting straight.

"Well," Hank grumbles, "I was planning on dropping you off at your place before going home anyway, I can make a pit stop at your father's house."  
Jay looks up, surprised. Hank is almost as surprised as his detective by his offer. He doesn't even know why he suggests it. But he does feel kind of benevolent right now. The relief of having Erin wake up and be relatively ok almost makes him light-headed, and things are supposed to get easier from now on. But when he sees Halstead, looking defeated and resigned at the same time, he can't help but think that the kid can't catch a break.

"Thanks Sarge, but you don't have too, I can call a cab."

Hank knows if he makes it an order, Halstead will fold, and he's not above using his authority over the younger man to force him to accept the gesture. "I don't mind. Come on, let's go."

Looking like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders, Halstead gets up, and they make their way to Hank's car in silence.

AN : Thank you for reading ! I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

AN : Hey everybody ! I'm back with a pretty long chapter. Just so you know, when I started writing this story, my goal was to write what happens in chapter 4. Then the idea of a confrontation between Jay and his father got stuck in my head and that resulted in this chapter. It was a difficult chapter to write, but I'm mostly happy with how this turned out.

A few words about the timeline : this story happens after the episode in Chicago med where Pat Halstead gets heart surgery, but before he moves to the new apartment where shit is going to happen in the recent One Chicago crossover (sorry if I'm being vague, I'm trying not to spoil things for people who haven't watched it yet). However, obviously Erin has not left for New York, and I don't remember if that fits into the timeline, but if it doesn't, just consider that it's an AU where she turned down the offer to go to New-York. For you Erin lovers out there, there's no Erin in this chapter, but she'll be in the next one (which I might take a while to write, since I have a few ideas here and there but nothing precise right now.)

Finally, as always, thank you to those who take the time to read this little story, and a huge thanks to those who review and keep me going, you guys are the best !

Chapter 7

HANK - HANK - HANK

The sun is setting on the horizon as they reach Pat Halstead's house. It's a small one-story house, with light green paint that is peeling off in some places. A few repair jobs that look less than professional are visible from the outside. Hank glances at Halstead who is slumped in his seat, mouth set in a grim line. Initially Hank had planned on waiting in the car in order to give the younger man some privacy, but it's becoming increasingly clear that if Hank doesn't make the first move, they'll be here all night. So he cuts the contact and gets out of the car, waiting for Halstead to follow suit.  
It takes a few second for his detective to muster the motivation to actually get out of the vehicle and go knock on the door. There's no answer so Jay rings the bell, and then knocks again.

"Dad, it's Jay, open up!" He calls out while hammering on the door. "The light is on, I know you're there, open up!"

He tries a few more times but the house remains quiet. Jay swears under his breath and rummages through his pockets until he finds his key-ring. There's at least five keys on it, one of them obviously being the key to his father's house, and Hank is a bit surprised to see that despite the animosity Jay seems to have for his father, he still keeps this key with him at all times.

Jay opens the door and slips inside. Hank follows him without waiting for an invitation, and closes the door softly behind him. He stays in the shadows near the front door, not wanting to intrude, but choosing to be close enough to observe the scene and offer his assistance if needed.

The living room is small, with barely enough place for an armchair, a couch, a small coffee table and a TV. The kitchen opens on the living room, and on the other side Hank can see a small corridor that probably leads to the bedrooms. A few shelves are cluttered with papers, boxes, plastic bags and little objects without there being a visible order to it. A baseball bat is lying near de couch, as well as a few plates and glasses that didn't make it to the kitchen sink.

Sitting on the couch, Halstead senior is nursing a drink in front of the TV, old pullover littered with chips crumbs. There's an opened bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, and more than a few empty beer bottles around it. The stench of alcohol hits them as soon as the door is closed, and Hank sees Halstead recoil from the smell. It's pretty clear Pat Halstead is drunk, or at the very least has a nice buzz going on, and Jay seems to physically steel himself for the confrontation that is to come.

Still almost invisible in the shadow of the unlit entry, Hank feels himself tense. It's ridiculous, Jay is a grown man, a capable one at that, and he's more than able to handle an old drunk man. But Jay is wounded, and Hank also knows that nothing is the same when it comes to family. Family can make you strong, but it can also make you vulnerable. And if there's one word to describe his young colleague right now, it is vulnerable. Both psychologically and physically.

"Hey dad."

"What the hell are you doing here," Pat slurs, "I don't remember inviting you. Come to harass a honest citizen?"

Jay ignores the jab. "Word is you're not taking your meds, Will asked me to check on you."

"Yeah? Well he can come check on me himself. No need to send the fucking police," he grumbles as he leans over the table to refill his glass.

"Sorry, the son you actually like is not in Chicago right now, you'll have to make do with me," Jay says flippantly as he grabs the whiskey bottle before his father can reach it. "And I think you've had enough."

"You're not the boss of me," the older man grips petulantly. Then he narrows his eyes at his son's battered face and asks, "What happened to your face?"  
Jay doesn't answer, instead he tries to get back on track. "Where are your meds?"

"Did you try to brutalize someone and they actually fought back?" Pat asks with a scowl.

Hank is surprised by the venom in the older man's words. The notion that Pat Halstead is unhappy with his son's carrier choice has been brought to his attention once or twice, but he never expected Halstead senior to be so vindictive about it. Jay, on the other hand, doesn't look the least bit surprised, and takes it all in stride.

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened. You got me. Now where are your meds ?"

"Why you wanna know?"

"'Cause you're going to take them so that I can reassure Will you're not about to die and then I can get the hell out of here. The sooner you take them, the sooner I'm outta your hair." There's no anger in his tone. The way Jay is handling the situation reminds Hank of the countless times he's seen the young man negotiate with a witness. His voice is calm and emotionless as he reasons with the older man and tries to find the easiest and quickest way to make him cooperate.

"Ha ! Outta my hair? I wish! Don't think I don't know you're going to find another excuse to come pester me!"

Jay looks like he's counting to ten in his head, trying to keep a level head before replying, "Dad, I'm not here to pick a fight, you're drunk, you need to take your meds and sleep it off. And when you're sober, you're gonna call Consuela and apologize."

It's not the right thing to say, and as his face turns a violent shade of red, Halstead senior yells, "Don't take that tone with me! I'm not a child!"  
Jay finally lets some of his frustration show as he answers back, voice rising, "Yeah? You could have fooled me!"

There's no warning as the older man throws his empty glass at Jay's head. The young detective has clearly anticipated the move and he ducks in a smooth and practiced way, even though the trajectory was so off-target that even without moving, the glass probably wouldn't have hit him. It shatters on the wall and small shards of glass rain down on the carpet.

"You done?" Jay asks, straightening up.

"Screw you," his father snarls.

Jay tries another path, lowering his voice. "Dad, please, listen to me. You have a mechanical mitral valve, if you don't take your medication, there's a risk that a clot will develop on the valve, and if it migrates to your brain you could have a stroke. Is that what you want? End up handicapped or dead?"

"Psshh" his father snorts, "stop talking like you're a doctor and shit. Don't try and play clever with me. What is it? You jealous of your brother 'cause he's a hotshot doctor? When you're just a glorified thug with a badge?"

Hank can see the moment the words register and the pass of destruction they tear in his detective. The glass may not have touched him but his father's words hit dead him dead-center.

The young man flushes as he answers "I'm not a hotshot doctor but Will explained it in very simple terms that even my simple brain can understand. So stop being an asshole and tell me where you put your damn pills!" He's shouting by the end of his sentence. His face is becoming as red as his father's, but whether it's from anger or from the shame of having his boss witness the scene, Hank's not sure.

With both Halsteads red-faced and glaring at each other, it's hard to miss the obvious resemblance. Though Pat is heavier and taller than his son, sporting a moustache and missing a few hair, it's clear that Jay mainly inherited his father's face. The line of their jutted jaw as they sulk is the same, as is the brim of their noses.

Meanwhile Pat ignores his son and look at the advertisement on the TV like it's the most interesting thing in the world. Jay grabs the remote and turns the TV off.

"Ok, that's it," Jay says as he takes his father's arm with his left hand, propping him up. "Time for bed." Hank notices he keeps his splinted right hand carefully tucked on his side, away from his father.

Pat jerks his arm away but Jay is like a pit-bull and grabs it again. When he finally manages to get his father to stay upright, Jay looks at the couch and exclaims, "You gotta be kidding me!"

Hank moves a bit from his spot to get a clear view of what has the younger Halstead so outraged, but neither Halstead take notice. Where Pat had been sitting, there's a large dark stain.

"You pissed yourself dad? Seriously?"

Jay starts walking his father toward the bedroom as the older Halstead replies "What? It's not like I never had to change your sheets."

"When I was like, three !"

"More like five, and I'm not even talking about your brother, this one wet the bed 'till he was ten!"

"Yeah well clearly we get it from you."

Hank doesn't know if it's Jay's words that trigger it or if it would have happened anyway, but Pat jerks his arm away saying, "Let go of me, you ungrateful little shit, I can walk on my own!". Problem is, he can't. Pat takes an unsteady step, his balance falters and he starts to fall sideways. Jay goes to catch him but the heavier man has the momentum with him and both men crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs. There's a small pained gasp as Jay's bad side hits the wall, his father practically lying on top of him.

Hank has seen enough and quickly steps over. He grabs Halstead senior and pulls him of the young detective. Jay's eyes are squeezed shut and his face is pale, as the sudden pain of falling on his cracked ribs prevents him from drawing a breath.

"Jay," Hank says, kneeling beside him "Small breaths, in through he nose, out through the mouth."

Jay nods jerkily and tries to do as he's told. His eyes crack open and he hisses through gritted teeth, "I'm fine, Sarge." But his breathing is still superficial and irregular, belying his words.

Pat looks around, confused as to how he ended up sitting on the floor, and his eyes come to rest on Hank. "Who the hell are you ?"

Hank knows a volatile situation when he sees one, so he keeps his tone neutral as he answers, "I'm Sergeant Hank Voight. Your son works in my unit."

Pat turns toward his son and grabs the collar of his hoodie as he spits "you brought another pig in my house?!"

This takes Jay by surprise, just as he was starting to get his breathing under control, making him flinch involuntarily. The way Jay automatically turns his head away at an angle that would make it difficult for his father to take a shot at his face is not lost of the older detective.

Hank quickly separate them, tugging Pat's hand away from Jay's hoodie and putting some distance between the two men.

"That's enough," he says, "get up." Pat tries but ends up falling on his ass once more, too dizzy to stand on his own. Instead of trying again, he stays on the floor and gestures toward Jay, "what's wrong with him? Why is he not getting up?".

Jay is still white-faced on the floor, though he seems to be breathing a little better. "You ok ?" Hank grunts, trying to stay professional and not embarrass his young colleague even more. Though truth be told, he would really like to deck Halstead senior right now. But he can't. The man is drunk out of his mind, and he didn't even hurt Jay on purpose. To be fair, the only one who hit Jay on purpose recently, is Hank himself. Ain't that fucking great. He looks at the young man struggling to gather himself on the floor, looks at the broken old man sitting angry and confused beside him, and Hank thinks he's about ready for this day to be done.

"I'm good. I'm good," Jay says, slowly getting back to his feet.

When he's sure Jay is steady enough not to fall down again, Hank turns toward Halstead senior to address his unanswered question.

"What's wrong with him is he got himself three broken ribs and a broken finger while dismantling a drug ring that has been killing kids all over Chicago. His partner got shot twice in the back during the same bust and is still in ICU. So, in the name of the city of Chicago, I would appreciate it if you could give your son a break."

"Drug ring?" Halstead senior repeats, like he can't quite believe it.

"Yeah. You thought he was writing parking tickets?" Hank can't help the bite in his voice. They have a tough job, they sacrifice a lot for this job. To see Halstead's commitment to the city be belittled at every turn by his father is like a blow to Hank's gut.

The older man doesn't answer but his belligerent streak seems to be dampened for now. Jay and Hank each grab Pat under an armpit and together they manage to maneuver him through de hallway and deposit him on his bed.

"Thanks Sarge, I can take it from here."

"You sure?" Hank asks, as Jay rummages through the chest of drawers and pulls out clean underwear and sweatpants.

"Positive, boss."

It's obvious that Jay is reaching the end of is tolerance for what his superior can witness, so even though he's reluctant to leave, Hank nods and steps out of the bedroom. He closes the door but it's just for show, since the walls are thin enough for him to keep an ear out in case things go wrong in there.

JAY - JAY -JAY

Jay breathes a sigh of relief as his boss steps out of the room. Though he's grateful for the older detective's earlier intervention, he doesn't know if he can bear another humiliation. He's used to his father's insults, having accepted his contempt a long time ago, but it's different to have someone else witness it. God, Voight must think he's pathetic!

As he ruminates these thoughts, the young man absentmindedly pulls the soiled trousers and boxers off his father. He dumps the dirty clothes in a heap in a corner of the room and grabs the clean boxers to help his father put them on.

"These guys," his father starts, "the drug dealers. You got them?"

"Yeah dad, we got them," Jay says as he tries to put the boxer shorts in position without having to physically lift his father. "Raise your hips, help me out, there."

His father complies and Jay grabs the sweatpants. "And the guy who beat you up?"

"He's dead," Jay says without elaborating, not knowing whether his dad would approve of him shooting the guy. He never quite knows which side his father will take when it comes to him doing his job.

"That's good," his father says simply. Jay's heart is suddenly hammering in his chest. There is a hint of protectiveness in his dad's words that Jay has not heard in a long time. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't let himself hope that his father gives a shit about him, because it makes him vulnerable to disappointment. He's learned this lesson countless times, so he repeats to himself that it doesn't mean anything, that it's not his father's way of showing he cares. He's reading too much in such a little sentence, when his dad is just expressing his satisfaction at having one less drug dealer roaming the streets.

"You did good," Pat says again, maybe having noted his son's hesitation.

It's been so long since his father had anything positive to say about him that Jay doesn't know how to react. He's usually pretty bad at receiving compliments, and it's ten times worse when it comes from his father, so he clears his throat and gets back to the matter at hand, "Why don't you want to take your meds?"

He half expects his father to become angry and belligerent again, but the fight seems to have gone out of the older man as he answers, "You remember Mrs Patterson, down the street?"

At Jay's nod, Pat continues, "she got lung cancer. Did the surgery, the chemo ad all that shit. She died yesterday."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know you were close."

Pat barks out a laugh, "Close? I barely tolerated the old bat," before adding, all traces of humor gone, "but it did bring back some memories."

A heavy silence settles after these words, both men lost in the remembrance of the woman that was once everything in their lives.

"Mom wouldn't want you to give up this way," Jay says softly.

"M'not giving up," Pat grumbles, "I'm just not going to spend what's left of my life taking twenty pills a day to keep me going." A pause. "You know, they told your mom she wouldn't make it. The first few years, there was hope, but two years before she died, the doctors told her she only had a few months left. They could try to prolong her life with chemo, to postpone the end, but she would last less than a year."

His father isn't looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he continues, "I begged her not to take the chemo, not to let the meds destroy her for the few months she had left to live. You know what she said? She said, 'the boys need me, if it can give me a few more months with the boys, I'll take the vomiting and the cramps and the lost hair, it's worth it.'"

Jay doesn't say anything, he knows how this story goes, and he already feels the stomach ache that comes with regret, remorse and lost time.

"Dad-" he tries to interject but his father cuts him off, talking over him "Fat lot of good it did. Your brother left for med school and you fled to the other end of the world!"

"We didn't know it was that bad at the time," Jay feels the need to defend their actions.

"Yeah she didn't want to 'worry' you," his dad spits the words out like they're poison. "She tortured herself until the end for you two ungrateful little shits." There's a tear at the corner of his father's eye but it refuses to fall.

Jay wants to tell him, to yell at him, that he had to leave. That his father left him no other choice. That between his mother dying and his father's mood getting steadily more violent, he had been suffocating, and joining the rangers seemed like the only way to escape it all at the time. Instead he says, "but I came home."

"Too damn late, you did."

And Jay doesn't have anything to answer to that, because it's true, and years later the thought still hurts as badly as when he had realized in horror that he had come home to a mother who only had a few weeks to live. The younger Halstead feels his own eyes begin to burn, and he quickly rubs at them to make the stinging go away. He's not going to break down twice in as many days with his boss in the next room. No way.

"The past is the past," he says, "and drinking yourself stupid or refusing to take your meds won't bring her back, dad."

His father snorts, "M'not taking advice from a guy who thought whiskey was the standard treatment for his PTSD."

Jay doesn't back down, but instead raises his chin in challenge "Well you should take advice from this guy, 'cause he knows exactly what he's talking about."

His father sighs, and looks away. "Just leave me alone."

There's a soft knock on the bedroom door. Jay opens it and finds Voight holding out a plastic bag and a sheet of paper.  
"Found the meds and the prescription," Hank says.  
"Great, thanks Sarge."

Jay fills a glass with tap water and comes back to his father's side. It takes him a few minutes to decipher the horrendous handwriting that's on the prescription and prepare the adequate meds. During this time his father doesn't say a word, probably coming to terms with the fact that Jay is not going to go until he takes the damn meds.

After a few more minutes of negotiations, his father finally complies, and Jay is grateful that they've reached the part where alcohol makes his dad sleepy. Nothing is ever set in stone in life, but the three stages of his father's alcohol intoxication are almost always anger first, then sadness, and finally sleep. Jay's pretty familiar with the first stage, but he usually bolts before they've reached the second part, let alone the third one. It's strange to see his father be so mellow. Strange, but also fucking nice. God knows dealing with his dad is exhausting. The anger, the insults, the recriminations all take a toll on the younger man.

When Jay steps out of the bedroom, he's surprised to see that the shards of glass are gone, and the windows have been opened, letting a gust of fresh wind chase away the stale air of the house.

Jay looks through the fridge and find what he needs to quickly make a simple sandwich. He puts it back in the fridge when he's done, knowing that his father isn't hungry right now, but will be when he wakes up.

He can already hear his father's snores on the other side of the door. He sends a quick look around the unkempt living room and realizes they need to find a new place for his father. He needs to talk to Will about making him move in a smaller apartment, because this house is falling apart and nobody has the time, motivation or money to invest in maintaining this place. But this is a battle for another day.

"Ready to go, Halstead ?" Jay starts a little hearing his boss's voice. He's been so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgot his sergeant's presence.

"Yeah, Sarge. Thanks for …" Jay doesn't know how to finish his sentence so he makes a vague gesture encompassing the room. Voight can understand what he wants in this gesture. Thanks for tidying up the room and getting rid of the glass. Thanks for the support. Thanks for not making a big deal out of it. He's thankful for all of it, but he doesn't think he's able to voice it. Voight seems to understand his meaning anyway and nods once. "Don't mention it. Let's go."

When they're in the car, en route to Jay's apartment, he finally gets the gut to ask, "What my father said, in the bedroom, you heard all that ?"

Voight takes a few seconds to answer, "Families are complicated, Halstead. I'm not one to judge. What I might have heard, I'll keep to myself." And it's good enough for Jay.

No more is said until Voight parks the car in front of Jay's apartment building. Before the young man steps out of the car, his sergeant asks, "You got some painkillers at home ?"

Jay nods.

"And something to eat ?"

"Does frozen pizza counts ?" Jay asks with a half-smile.

"Good enough," Voight grunts, "good night Halstead. See you tomorrow."

"'Night Sarge."

Jay watches his boss drive away, gets to his apartment, takes his shoes off, and collapses fully dressed on his bed. He closes his eyes thinking 'just five minutes.' The words are barely through his mind that he's already drifting toward unconsciousness, finally allowing himself to fall into a much needed and much deserved sleep.

AN: Thank you for reading, please share your thoughts!


	8. Chapter 8

AN : Hey everybody. Here is the next chapter! This story keeps getting longer without me meaning to… It's probably going to be two more chapters (for real this time), epilogue included… but it might be one chapter longer because I still have some ideas that won't necessarily fit into the next chapter.

Thank you readers, for accompanying me on this journey. To those who review: you give me the motivation to keep writing, your comments mean the world to me, thank you thank you thank you !

Chapter 8

JAY – JAY – JAY

It's the middle of the night when Jay wakes up with a start, memories of the previous days meshing with some of his recurring nightmares. The smell of a Humvee burning sticks to the back of Jay's nostrils, and he looks around, wondering why it's so dark, and shouldn't he see the stars if they're in the middle of the desert?

Jay knows this feeling of confusion, and he knows what he's supposed to do. He has a checklist, and he goes methodically through it while trying hard not to panic. What am I wearing? Civilian clothes. What's underneath me? A mattress. What am I hearing? The screams of my fellow soldiers. No, wait, he knows that voice, it's Erin who's screaming. No wait…He taps rhythmically on the nightstand with his fist. This sound is real. The screams are just in his head. Through the open door, he sees the feeble light he left on in the kitchen. Sees the coffee-maker. Shit, it's been a while since he had to do all that in order to get his bearings.

He's still fully clothed, so he changes into some sweatpants and a soft shirt, hoping the comfy clothes can help him find sleep again. A glance at his alarm clock tells him it's three o'clock in the morning, so there's still time for him to catch some sleep. He gets under the covers, turns and turns, changes position, forces himself to keep his eyes close even though it's a horror movie that's playing behind his eyelids, until he can't take it anymore. After an hour of self-inflicted torture, he gives up.

The rest of his night is spent in front of the TV, watching documentaries on the animal channel, downing cup after cup of coffee. His eyes start to droop around seven, just as the sun is making a timid comeback on the horizon. Much too soon, his phone wakes him up. It's a text from Mouse, asking if he's home and if he can come by. Jay replies, and fifteen minutes later he's opening the door for his best friend.

Mouse steps into the apartment, and his face drops as he takes his first good look at Jay.

"Shit, man, you look like hell."

Jay had forgotten Mouse had not been there. They have been texting for the last few days, so Mouse is up to date on what happened, but he has not seen the damage first hand.

Jay waves his concern away, "It looks worse that it is."

"Somehow I doubt that, I think it's just as bad as it looks." A pause. "Man, Voight really did a number on you."

Jay scoffs, "It's not all him. Most of that happened before he went all Donkey-Kong on me." Jay pours a fresh cup of coffee and hands it to Mouse. He takes a careful sip, makes a grimace and helps himself to some of Jay's sugar. Jay smirks and hands him some milk. As Mouse pours a rather large amount in his cup, Jay teases, "You know that can't legally be called coffee now?"

"Bite me," Mouse says, "your coffee-making skills have not improved."

Jay shrugs, "I like it this way."

There's a moment of silence as they settle in the living-room. Mouse is fidgeting more than usual, and Jay doesn't need to wait long to know why.

"You gonna report him ?"

"Who ?"

Mouse rolls his eyes at his friend, "Voight. For what he did to you."

Jay looks affronted. "Come on dude, it's not my style. You know he wasn't thinking straight. I might have done the same thing in his place."

"You sure that's all there is to it?"

Jay tries not to take it personally when his best friend takes the tone of every psychological counselor he's ever met, but he can feel the edge of anger creeping in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Mouse keeps turning his cup in his hand as his anxiety spikes, but still he soldiers on.

"I mean, I know you and your dad have a complicated relationship. Not a very healthy one. I was there when you came back from overseas. I remember how he was. What he did to you."

"What does that have to do with Voight?" The anger settles nicely in his body, making him less tired and more alert. Jay feels his cheeks begin to redden, as they always do when he's ashamed or angry. What is Mouse playing at?

"The way you're justifying Voight's actions. It's exactly what you used to do when your dad would lose his shit on you."

Jay is about done with this discussion. He stands up so quickly that Mouse flinches and Jay feels a pang of regret for inciting such a reaction in his friend. That dampens some of his anger, but not much.

"You're drawing weird parallels, dude. I'm not justifying anything for my dad. I'm the first to admit he's an asshole, in fact the less I see this prick, the better."

"Yeah, I know. But it wasn't always that way."

Unfortunately, while Jay would like to deny everything, he knows exactly what Mouse is talking about. He did use to justify his father's actions, if only because if his father had a reason for his moods, then it didn't mean that Jay was the problem. It didn't mean that his problem was _with_ Jay. As a teen he had been angry, but ultimately he had always linked his father's behavior to what was happening to his mother. And when he acted like the punches were an understandable and normal reaction for anybody when faced with such a depressing situation, it made it bearable. He didn't just act like his father's abusive behavior was normal, he actually made himself believe it. The worst thing that could happen, in Jay's eyes, was being painted as a victim. He had always been strong, proud and independent, even as a child and later as a teen. He was, certainly not a victim.

When he had come back from Afghanistan, rampant PTSD making his days a living hell and his nights a never-ending nightmare, Mouse had been the only stable thing in his life, getting him out of bar-fights, throwing away his whiskey bottles, and putting him to bed when he was not able to stand upright anymore. That means Mouse had had a front seat to the drama that was the Halstead family at the time. At the beginning, when Jay had been taking care of his slowly agonizing mother, the few times Mouse had seen him sporting a new black-eye, Jay had always shrugged it off, invoking a bar fight or an accident. But Mouse was far from stupid and had quickly understood what was going on. Mouse had just needed to wait for the right time to interrogate an inebriated Jay, who spilt the beans about what had been and was still going on. Mouse had been supportive and not just a little bit outraged in behalf of his friend. He had been just one step away from crossing town and going to beat the shit out of Halstead senior himself nut Jay had panicked, and had then proceeded to talk him out of it, invoking all kind of extenuating circumstances. Mouse had relented, not because he was swayed by Jay's argument, but because he couldn't bear to see his friend in such distress.

Things changed after Jay's mother's death. The final fight he had had with his dad made him reach his breaking point, and ultimately he had cut almost all ties with his father, his mother no longer being there to be the last link of a broken family. Will had been AWOL most of the time, only appearing for the funeral, before fleeing back to his new life in New-York. In the midst of his grief, Jay had noted the way Mouse seemed relieved that the weird dynamic between Jay and his father was gone. For the first time since he knew him, Jay had stopped finding excuses for his father. The truth was, Jay had finally accepted the fact that though his father might have once loved him because he was his son, he just didn't like him as a person. A few weeks after the funeral, Jay had finally found it in himself to get out of the black hole he had been digging for himself. The fact that Jay's depression and PTSD had started getting better at the same time he had stopped associating with his father obviously didn't escape Mouse.

"Yeah," Jay says, "but it was a long time ago. I still don't see how it relates to Voight."

Mouse seems to hesitates, but he finally finds the courage to ask, "Ok, so let me just ask you one thing: Why didn't you fight back ? From what Ruzek told me, you just covered up."

Mouse's eyes bore into his and Jay stutters as he answers.

"I was shocked, man. Erin has just been shot. I was not all there," he says, gesturing toward his head. "And it happened pretty fast. I barely knew what was happening that it was already over."

Mouse looks doubtful.

"I've never seen you freeze, Jay. Not even that day near Kaboul."

"Don't," Jay tries to stop him, "Don't go there."

But Mouse is relentless, "The Humvee had just blown up, half the guys were dead, and you were injured, and you still fought like a bat out of hell."

"Stop it. I don't want to talk about it."

"Then explain it to me."

"It's different!" Jay is getting desperate for his conversation to stop.

"Different how? Why is it you didn't even attempt to defend yourself against Voight?"

It's the last straw for Jay as he yells, "Because I fucking deserved it!"

A heavy silence falls on the room as both men process these words. Jay is panting, angry at Mouse for bringing all that shit up, angry at himself for admitting out loud what he has not even admitted to himself.

"Fuck that." Jay strolls out of the living room, and puts his empty mug of coffee in the sink, with more force than strictly necessary. "Fuck that!" He slams his good hand on the counter but it vibrates through his whole chest and makes his broken ribs hiss in pain. It's good. The pain grounds him, makes him focus on something else than this goddamn conversation.

"Jay," Mouse has entered the kitchen, socked feet sliding soundlessly against the tiles, in the typical furtive way that had earned him his nickname a long time ago, "it wasn't your fault."

Jay scoffs, still facing the sink, refusing to look his friend in the eyes, "You weren't there, how could you know?"

"Did you pull the trigger? Did you voluntarily leave her alone? Did you make a mistake?"

Jay just shakes his head, but his voice is raspy as he answers, "I'm supposed to watch her back. If I can't protect her then what good am I to her?"

"Having a partner never made anyone invincible. It just lessens your odds of getting killed. But it can still happen. You know that. She knows that. The whole fucking team knows that. Nobody blames you man." Jay finally turns to face mouse, his anger gone, only sadness remaining.

"That's what Olinski said. It's one thing to hear it, and another thing to believe it."

Mouse places his hand on Jay's shoulder and squeezes. "Then we'll say it every single day until you believe us."

Jay's lips turn into the ghost of a smile, and he wonders what he did to deserve such a good friend.

Mouse's voice is soft but firm as he adds, "I just don't want you falling back into old habilts, man. It was hard enough for you to find your way back the first time…"

Jay rolls his eyes, "I look drunk to you?" But there's no heat in his voice. He knows Mouse means well.

"Seriously though, drop it with the Voight thing. He's actually been pretty decent. Even apologized, and you know how Voight loves apologizing."

Mouse's face turns into a grimace. Voight has a temper, and is a hard-ass, something that has always set the tech wizard on edge. Maybe it's why he's been so quick to jump to Jay's defense. But Mouse has only been in this unit for a few months and doesn't know their sergeant like Jay does. Actually, Jay remembers it took him some time to understand the complicated persona that is his boss. Though he has not totally pierced this mystery, he's now more convinced than ever that while his methods might be debatable, Voight's heart is usually in the right place. Mouse just hasn't had the time to see it yet.

"So… Things are good between you two?" It seems like Mouse needs to be reassured, the worry still evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, man, water under the bridge." And it's the truth. In Jay's eyes, the man has more than redeemed himself for his lack of restraint, and shown more interest in Jay's general well-being in the last few days than his father has in the last ten years. Jay doesn't know if this particular fact is supposed to warm his heart or depress him.

"Ok, I'm glad you feel that way." Mouse breathes a sigh of relief. Then he swiftly changes the subject. "So, I hear things are looking good for Lindsay?"

Happy to get the attention of his co-worker away from him, Jay enthusiastically launches into a detailed update of Erin's evolution. The tension dissolves and the two men fall back into their usual easy banter, the discussion turning lighter as they focus on Erin's unexpectedly quick recovery.

It turns out that the case being closed, Voight gave the day off to the whole team, so everybody is planning on visiting Erin at some point. It's not visiting hours yet, so the two friends use the time to make a quick run to the convenience store, stocking up the cupboards and the fridge, anticipating the days to come. With only one functioning hand, Jay is glad that Mouse is here to help him out. Mouse acts like he's just killing time but Jay knows it was a calculated move on his part. That's the way it works with them. They help each other out when they can, but in such a way that the other doesn't feel indebted, neither men mentioning it, but appreciating the support all the same.

When they finally make their way to the hospital, Jay finds Erin looking much better than the previous day. Her hair is tied back and her face looks fresh. She doesn't look like she's in too much pain, but still winces a little when she tries to move too much. Mouse stands uneasily on the doorway before stepping in to join Erin and Jay inside.

"Hey Lindsay, how are you feeling?" he asks awkwardly.

"Not too bad, considering every one keeps telling me I almost died." Her tone is light and she's grinning, and Jay can see Mouse's discomfort slowly ebb away.

The three of them talk for a while until Mouse makes his retreat, still not totally comfortable with the situation.

After that, the rest of the day is a blur of people dropping by to visit Erin. Some, like Mouse, stay only for a few minutes, while others, like Kim talk Erin's ears off. Jay had not realized the two women had such a strong bond, but it soon becomes obvious to him that what had once been friendly professionalism between the two girls has evolved into a true friendship. As the conversation edges dangerously close to shoe-shopping territory – something Jay had never imagined his bad-ass girlfriend to be into but, heh, what does he know anyway – Jay leaves the two of them alone to get some fresh air. He's been stuck in the ICU room for the better part of the day now, and it's a relief to stretch his legs. As he reaches the waiting room, he almost bumps into Atwater, Ruzek and Dawson.

"Hey Jay. It's good to see you, man, how you holding up?" Kevin asks.

"I'm good. Better now that Erin is awake," Jay says, a genuine smile on his face.

Antonio scratched his chin, "What about Voight? You and him, you all right?"

Jay sighs. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that."

Ruzek snorts, "Yeah well, you take a look in the mirror recently? The way he laid you out, that was not cool."

"No, it wasn't," Jay snaps at him, "But shit was happening, nobody was thinking straight, so drop it already!" What is it with everybody acting like he should throw Hank under the bus ?

Adam's hands go up, "Wow wow, calm down, man."

"Yeah, stay cool," Antonio adds, "we just wanted to know if you were ok. As your friends, you know?"

Jay immediately feels bad about jumping down their throats.

"Sorry guys, it's just been a rough couple of days… And I feel like I already had this discussion with Mouse this morning so… Yeah, everything's fine, Voight and me are cool. Actually he's been pretty decent to me, and I'm not planning on writing him up or anything."

"Ok, that's good! Good to know!" Ruzek slaps his good shoulder lightly. Then in typical Ruzek fashion, he launches into an excited account of yesterday's raid. Jay has been feeling a little out of the loop, and it's nice to be caught up to speed on everything that's happened since he's been out of commission.

When the epic retelling is done, the four of them go back to Erin's room. Kim is still there, and when Alvin shows up, the ICU room is so crowded that the nurses have to squeeze between the visitors to change the syringes. One of them huffs in annoyance, and announces a bit sternly that Detective Lindsay is about to be moved out of the ICU and to a regular ward. This announcement is met with a round of cheering and applause, and the nurse hushes them harshly, reminding them that some patients are still fighting for their lives in the adjacent rooms. The atmosphere sobers quickly after that, and one by one, the member of the intelligence unit start to leave, having clearly overstayed their welcome.

Only Jay remains, happy to have a bit of time alone with his girl. Judging by Erin's face, she's glad to have a bit of quiet and peace as well.

"It was very nice, seeing everyone…" she says, "even if that can be a little…"

"Overwhelming?" Jay suggests with a half-smile.

"I was going to says 'exhausting', but yeah, that too."

Soon enough, Erin is brought to her new room, Jay not far behind, carrying the few items he has brought for her this morning. It feels different, being in the normal ward. For one, the room is an actual room, with white walls and a window that lets her see a bit of sky. The room in the ICU was all glass walls, important for the patient safety but absolutely shitty for privacy. Here when they close the door, they're alone, and if Erin needs someone to come, she can press a button on the edge of her bed. It's quiet too, without the heart monitor beeping and the alarms of the other patients in the distance.

When they're alone, Jay sits on the edge of the bed, holding Erin's hand.

"So, congratulations are in order. For making it out of the ICU." He kisses her lightly on the lips.

"Thanks. It does feel like a huge step, you know." She smiles. Then she winces as she tries to move her body closer to the other side of the bed.

"Hey, stop that, you're going to hurt yourself."

But when has Erin Lindsay ever not done anything she was set to do? With a grunt, she slides her body to the side, and then pats the part of the bed that's now free.

"Lie down with me."

Jay looks around. "Huh, I'm not sure. There's not enough place."

She rolls her eyes, "There's plenty of place you moron, come lie down."

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"And you're not going to. Come on Jay, you've got dark circles the size of the moon under your eyes, you need to rest too. And I'll rest better if you're near me."

Jay hesitates some more, so she adds, "And if you hurt me I'll just kick you out of bed."

He laughs at that, and finally complies, slowly pulling his body into a horizontal position, careful not to jostle her. They don't have much place, so both of them rest on their left side, Erin's back against Jay's torso, though he's careful not to press on her bandages.

Through the hospital smells, Jay finally discerns one that is only Erin, and he closes his eyes, relishing in her closeness and the comfort that comes with it. It's only in this moment that he truly allows himself to accept that this nightmare is coming to an end.

Soon enough, Erin falls into a quiet sleep, and Jay is doesn't last long before he joins her. He's awoken when the nurse enters the room with a dinner tray for Erin. She throws a disapproving glance in Jay's direction as he slowly extricates himself from Erin's bed.

"Erin?" he wakes her up softly, "Erin, babe, it's dinner time."

Her eyes flutter open and she rubs at her face to chase away the last remnant of sleep.

Jay is helping her set herself into a sitting position, when there's light knock on the door. Voight steps in the room, plastic bag by his side.

"Hey kid," he says, placing a chaste kiss on Erin's forehead. "How you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks. Just woke up from a nap actually."

"I know," Hank says, expressionless, "I was there earlier but you were out cold."

Sweat starts to bead on Jay's forehead. 'I was there earlier'. That means his boss totally caught him invading his daughter's hospital bed. He's so dead…

Erin also freezes, having obviously realized the same thing.

"You should have woken me up," Erin says slowly, trying to figure out if Voight is pissed or not. Meanwhile, Jay is discreetly counting the steps separating him from the door and wondering if he can disappear without anyone noticing.

"Nah," Hank grunts, "you looked like you could use the sleep." Then he glances at Jay who stiffens minutely, and adds "both of you."

Jay relaxes slightly. When Voight is not looking, Erin throws a bewildered look at Jay, eyebrows raised like she's not sure she's hearing right. Jay just shrug. Apparently he still has some kind of immunity, he's not going to question it, just enjoy it while it lasts.  
Voight gets some Jell-O out of the plastic bag and sets it on Erin's tray. "I know the food is not great, so I brought you something to cheer you up."

"Oooh the orange one, my favorite."

"Yeah, I remember," Voight smiles softly at her. Then he sits in one of the chairs, pulls a sandwich out of the bag, and extends another one toward Jay.

"Got one for you," he grunts. Jay freezes for a second, before accepting the sandwich, noting that it's chicken-lettuce, the same kind he chose for himself the previous day. He wonders if it's a coincidence. It's a testament to all that happened in the past few days that Jay is only mildly surprised by the unexpected gesture. Erin, on the other hand, looks dumbfounded, and must probably think she woke up in another dimension.

Voight and Erin make light conversation as they all eat, while Jay is mostly silent, actually enjoying the relaxed atmosphere that settled in the room. Visiting hours will soon be over, and Voight makes his goodbye, assuring Erin that he would be back tomorrow. He kisses her hair before leaving, and nods once toward Jay as he closes the door.

Erin turns to Jay, eyes wide, "What the hell was that?"

Jay plays innocent. "A nice meal?"

"Come on, Jay, who's this guy and what have you done with Hank?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jay smirks.

"Ok, wait a minute. He finds us in the same bed, doesn't tear you a new one, and actually buys you a sandwich? What the hell happened while I was unconscious?" she laughs.

Jay shrugs, "We were both worried about you. I guess we bonded a little bit."

"Huh huh." Erin is not convinced.

And when Jay gives her a kiss and a light hug before leaving for the night, she sends him a look that promises she'll get to the bottom of this mystery. Jay curses a bit. Having a brilliant detective for a girlfriend can sometimes be a pain in the ass.

AN: Hope you liked it! I'm not sure about this chapter, so drop me a review and tell me if you liked it!


	9. Chapter 9

AN : Hey everybody, sorry for the long delay. I don't know if anyone is still interested in this story, but just in case, here is chapter 9. It's Hank's POV, because it worked better this way… After this one, you can expect one more chapter/epilogue.

As always, thank you to those who read, and special thanks to those who review. You know who you are, and you rock !

Chapter 9

HANK- HANK- HANK

The next morning, when Hank gets to the precinct, he expects to have the place to himself, given that it's Sunday and they don't have any urgent case. There's usually someone manning the front desk, and a few officers dressed in blue around, but only the bare minimum. The bullpen should be empty.

So it's a bit of a surprise when he hears the sound of someone typing on a computer keyboard, albeit slowly. Like they're only using one hand. Hank's got a pretty good idea of who that might be, so he stomps a little harder on the last steps of the stairs, announcing his presence.

Sure enough, Halstead cranks his neck to see who is coming, and Hank is greeted with a small "Hey Sarge."

Hank nods. "Halstead," he says gruffly, "what are you doing here."

Jay shrugs, "Typing my report, Sarge."

Hank takes a good look at his subordinate's face. The bruises are finally starting to fade, the ugly purple slowly becoming a lighter shade of green and yellow. The circles under his eyes, however, are getting darker, and even though he's trying to sit straight in his chair, he's not hiding his exhaustion very well.

"On a Sunday morning?" Hank shakes his head. "Go home Halstead. We caught the guys responsible, your report can wait."

Jay clears his throat, fidgeting a bit in his chair. "Actually Sarge, huh… I'd rather get it done."

Hank doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at his detective, hoping to convey his thoughts through his glare. It's obvious Halstead has not been sleeping, or at least not enough. A few days ago, when Erin's fate was still hanging in the balance, Hank could have understood why Halstead would have trouble sleeping. The worry had kept Hank himself awake for part of the nights. But now that she is out of the woods, the fact that Jay is still obviously not sleeping is worrisome. The fact that he's probably not seeking any kind of help, even more so.

"It's just," Halstead starts again, "It's not like I have anything better to do anyway. Visiting hours don't start till after noon, so…"

"What about sleeping? It's something people do, sometimes, on Sunday morning. Especially when they look like a figurant from 'Walking dead'." Then, because he kind of likes watching Halstead squirm, he adds, "At home? In your own bed? As opposed to someone else's hospital bed." Though he could have delivered that line with a teasing tone, that is really not Hank's style. Instead, he settles for a stern grunt, and keeps any hint of humor out of his face.

Jay flushes and shifts in his seat. Hank grins inwardly. He's not angry with Halstead anymore, but it doesn't mean he can't mess with him a bit. Besides, if he needs to make the young man a little bit uncomfortable so that he agrees to get the rest he needs, so be it.

Halstead ignores his last sentence and instead his eyes widen a little as he pleads, "I'd like to stay and finish this, Sarge. I just need to… be done with this." Damn Halstead and his puppy dog eyes. Scratch that, his beaten up puppy dog eyes.

"Be quick about it then," Hank grunts, fully conscious that Halstead having only one functioning hand means it will take twice as long as usual for him to type his report. Halstead looks relieved. "Thank you, Sarge."

Hank doesn't answer, steps into his office and closes the door. Damned beaten up puppies. He doesn't even _like_ puppies.

For the next two hours, Hank immerses himself in his work, and forgets all about the young man sitting in the bullpen. At some point, he pauses his administrative work and calls Erin. She seems to be in a bad mood. Keeps snipping at him, gives him attitude, and almost hangs up on him. Hank knows what it is about, though. Erin has asked the medical team to stop the morphine. They wanted to wean her off slowly but she insisted on going cold turkey. Hank understands that Erin is afraid of becoming addicted to the stuff again, and he even feels a bit of pride that she's so determined to get off the drugs as quickly as possible. But he also knows it's going to be hell for her, and hell for those around her. He really wishes she had listened to the doctors' advice, and tried to make it easier on herself. But that's Erin for you. There is still some self-loathing under all that tough chick attitude, some disgust for the addict she was, the addict she's afraid of becoming again. And although she argues that her choice to go cold turkey is a logical one, Hank knows it's also some sort of self-punishment.

Unfortunately, he has learnt long ago that once Erin has her mind set, it's no use trying to dissuade her. He hopes when he goes to visit her this afternoon, she'll be in better disposition. Otherwise he might have to dish out some tough love, and he hates to do that when the kid is injured. But that's part of being a dad. Sometimes, you have to be the bad guy. Even when your daughter is not a kid but an adult woman. He doesn't know if he'll ever see Erin as anything other than this skinny dirty street kid he's come to think of as his daughter. Even when she'll be pushing fifty, she will still be a kid. His kid. And speaking of kids… he doesn't hear the sound of clumsy keyboard typing anymore.

Halstead is putting his leather jacket on, mindful of the hand that's still in a splint.

"You done?" Hank asks.

"Yeah…" There's an awkward pause.

"Need a lift home?"

"Nah…" Jay scratches his head, "actually Will is meeting me downstairs in five. He's starting his shift at med, so he'll drop me off there at the same time."

Hank frowns but Halstead doesn't meet his eyes. The older man sighs. He's been working with Jay long enough to know that he has a tendency to run away from his problems. Knows that for all the façade of a stable, solid man he has going on, his main coping mechanism is avoidance and denial. So, if subtlety isn't going to work, time for the big guns.

"Halstead, if you're having a PTSD problem, I need to know about it." There, straight to the point.

Halstead looks like he's just been slapped. He probably wasn't expecting Hank to be so straightforward about it. Most people don't dare use the word PTSD to his face. It might be implied, people might worry about PTSD showing in any Vet they meet in their line of work, but nobody outright says it.

"It's not PTSD, Sarge. Not really."

"Then what is it?" Hank grunts, annoyed at the evasiveness of his subordinate's answer.

"It's… just stuff… I'm dealing with it." Jay's face is closed off as he gives his best to shut down the conversation. Too bad for him, Hank is not dropping the subject so easily.

"Stuff like what. Nightmares?"

The younger man glares at him but stays silent. The lack of response is enough of a confirmation for Hank. "'Cause nightmares that keep you from having a good night's rest, that sounds a lot like PTSD to me."

"It's not PTSD," Jay days again, a mulish frown etched on his face.

"Don't think it's up to you to say whether it's PTSD or not. You need to talk to someone. A professional."

"I know the difference, Sarge," Jay spits, "and I sure as hell know it's not going to help me to go and see some self-righteous district psychologist and rehash the past for an hour every week."

Hank takes a step back and crosses his arm in front of his chest. Finally, an honest answer. They're getting somewhere. He doesn't say anything, just waits for the kid to develop on his own.

"I don't want to go see anyone. I'll deal with it on my own."

"It's mandatory, Jay. If you have a flashback on the job, you put yourself at risk, you put the whole team at risk, civilians, everybody around you is at risk." Hank softens his voice. Jay is not the most talkative guy he knows, and when it comes to personal stuff he becomes downright mute. Hank feels sorry for what the guy is obviously going through, but he can't put his team at risk.

"I know what PTSD feels like, Sarge, and if I thought there was even a chance that I could compromise the team, I'd be the first to ask for a psych eval… but that's not it. The nightmares and stuff, I've had that before, and I've dealt with it before, I know I can do it again… But I need to do it on my own terms."

Hank frowns at that, "When?"

Jay looks confused at the question, so Hank adds, "When has it happened, before."

The young man is fidgeting with a pen he grabbed from Antonio's desk. He's not looking at Hank as he answers, his focus being on making the pen spin around his thumb, index and middle finger. A nervous tick Hank has noticed he picks up only when he tries to avoid meeting someone's eyes.

"Last year. After Keyes."

Hank gives a grunt of acknowledgement. It had been a rough one. Jay's abduction had shaken the entire team, and though it had provided the incentive for Erin to crawl out of her rabbit hole, Hank remembers the heavy price Halstead had to pay. The few minutes of the video Keyes had sent of Jay's torture had been enough to give Hank a few nightmares himself. Especially since, being the team leader, he felt responsible for the young man's abduction.

At the end of the day, Jay had been hurt, but nothing was permanently damaged, and the physical signs of his ordeal had healed quickly enough. Maybe they should have been more careful of the psychological scars that had been left, much deeper and harder to erase than the taser burns on the young man's chest. Jay had been back after only a week of medical leave, and had never shown any sign of distress. He seemed to have rebounded better than anyone would have expected, like he often does. Stable, solid guy that he is. But to be quite honest, Hank had not been around during the week Jay had been away. He had checked on Halstead the first evening, had been satisfied to hear none of the injuries were too serious, had told the man he was glad they got him back in one piece, and that was it. So if Jay had not been sleeping, had not let himself sleep, the first few days after his ordeal, Hank wouldn't have known.

Hank wants to keep digging. He wants to know if this time it's better or worse or the same as after Keyes. He wants to know what kind of support structure the young man has. He wants to know if he should be worried, or relieved that Halstead seems to have dealt with that on his own before, and that he's always managed to come through. But Hank knows that Jay is not ready to talk about any of that. The few sentences they have exchanged felt like pulling teeth, and with everything that's happened the last few days, everything he has learned about him, he doesn't feel like pushing the kid too much right now.

So Hank just nods, before adding, "You have until you're back to work to get your shit sorted. But if I have any doubt about where your head is at when you come back, you'll be on your way to a psych consult before you can say "shrink"."

"Fair enough," Jay nods. Not a second later, his phone buzzes. "Will's here."

Both men make their way down the stairs and out of the district in silence.

Will is parked on the curb, window rolled down, and he whistles to get his brother's attention. He's all cocky smile until he sees his sibling's face.

"Holly shit Jay! What happened to you?"

'Huh,' Hank thinks to himself, 'looks like Jay hasn't shared the details of the last few days with his brother.'

Jay ignores Will's question as he makes his way to the car, throwing a "'Later Sarge" as he turns away.

In a lower voice, but not so low that Hank can't hear, Will adds, "Wait, did Dad did th-"

"No," Jay cuts him off sharply, "it's nothing, come on, let's go."

Will looks like he wants to argue but his brother's warning look as he gets into the passenger seat is enough to make him back off. Hank only hears the younger Halstead's voice mutter, "We're going to talk about that," before the window is rolled up and they drive away.

Hank hopes Will can convince his older brother to go home and sleep instead of lingering around the hospital, even though the odds of that happening are pretty low. Damn it, why do all the kids in his unit have to be so stubborn?

HANK – HANK – HANK

It's late afternoon when Hank finally makes his way to the hospital. He gets to Erin's room and stops in front of the closed door. Erin might be his daughter in all but name, but she is an adult and he respects her privacy. Just as he's about to knock, he hears a small crash coming from inside the room and two voices sounding definitely like Erin and Halstead swearing loudly. He's already pushing the door open but a nurse intercepts him before he can get inside.

"Sergeant Voight, I wanted to let you know Detective Lindsay will probably be discharged tomorrow."

Hank dismisses her with a grunt and she looks slightly offended but he has other fish to fry. He charges into Erin's hospital room, only to be met with the sight of Erin being carried back to bed bridal style by an ashen-faced Halstead.

"I told you we should have called the nurse," the young man grunts as he deposits Hank's surrogate daughter as gently as he can on the bed. He tries to let go of her slowly but his movements are jerky. Obviously, his ribs are not quite up to the task.

"Well Jay, excuse me for not wanting to call the nurse every time I need to go take a piss!" Erin bites back, both her and Jay too caught up in their argument to notice Hank.

"This is what the little red button is for, Erin, it's literally its main purpose here!" Jay is annoyed and in a bad mood. Shit, looks like Erin's crankiness is contagious.

"What the hell is going on here ?!" Hank barks.

Both heads turn toward him and they have the courtesy of looking slightly abashed. In Erin's case, it lasts all of two seconds before the scowl comes back full force on her face. God, Hank hates when Erin is detoxing.

"It's none of your business Hank."

Hank points a finger at Erin. "You. Shut up. Lie down."

The finger goes to point at Jay, who's still pale-faced. "And you, sit your ass down." He doesn't add 'before you fall down' as not to crush his subordinate's dignity. The kid complies and slumps on the nearest plastic chair.

"Are you both missing a few brain cells?"

He turns back toward Erin. "Erin. The nurses are here to help you. Let them do their jobs. When you're back home you can go all Rambo-like and not ask for any help, but while you're in the hospital, use the fucking professional help."

Halstead gives a small satisfied snort at those words. It's obvious he wants to say 'I told you so,' but is trying to refrain himself. Erin's glare turns murderous and Hank marvels at how little things have changed in the past fifteen years.

Hank avoids her glare by looking at Jay next, "Halstead. Do I have to spell it out for you? You don't carry people on top of broken ribs. I'm down two detectives right now. You trying to delay your recovery or what?"

Jay looks appropriately chastised and drops his eyes to the floor as he mumbles, "It was the easiest and fastest way to get her back to bed."

At the same time, Erin sputters, "What broken ribs?!"

"You didn't tell her ?" Hank rasps. Jay doesn't answer and crosses his arms. Hank tries to keep a cool head but it's becoming increasingly difficult with these two acting like goddamn teenagers.

"Out of the room, Halstead. Need to speak to Lindsay in private."

Erin looks offended on Halstead's behalf that he's getting thrown out of the room but she knows not to argue with him when he uses that tone. Jay is seething and still not saying anything, but at Hank persistent scowl, he gets up and strides out of the room without looking back. Hank's pretty sure if they weren't in a hospital he would have slammed the door on his way out. Fucking kids.

As soon as the door closes behind Halstead, Hank takes his place in one of the chairs. He takes the time to look at Erin. She looks like shit. Her skin looks clammy, and there's a yellow tinge to her normally tan complexion. She's not looking at him.

Hank sighs. "So," he begins, "what's this about not calling the nurses."

"I didn't know his ribs were hurt. I wouldn't have asked him to help if I had known," she deflects. It's nothing Hank didn't know though, if there's one thing he's sure of, it's that neither Erin nor Jay will ever physically hurt the other on purpose. Psychological hurt is a whole other matter but it's not the point of this discussion.

"Not what I asked," Hank answers.

It's Erin's turn to sigh. "You know how it is, Hank. It's written in my file. That I was an addict. I just don't like the looks some of them give me. I prefer to bother them as little as possible."

"Has anyone said something to you?"

She shakes her head, "I just know they're judging me." It amazes Hank how Erin can go from a confident independent strong woman to this insecure mess every time her past comes back to bite her in the ass. The fact that she's detoxing right now is obviously putting her back in her fifteen-year-old state of mind, and it's hurting Hank to have to witness it.

Hank comes closer and takes her hand. Her skin is cold and sweaty.

"Erin. I don't think anyone is judging you. And if they do, I don't see why should give a flying fuck about that."

Erin gives a hint of a smile at his cursing, but he continues on. "You're passed that. You're over it. And it's their job to help you, so let them." He lets that sink in before adding, "And don't put Halstead in a position where he feels he has to carry you around."

Erin rolls her eyes at that. "He's a big boy, it's not like I bullied him into it."

"You know as well as me that this guy would do anything for you, he would cut one of his limbs off- for you. You don't have to bully him much for him to go and do stupid things around you. For you."

His daughter's face softens and she nods, "I know. I thought it was only his hand and his face… He never said anything about broken ribs. I should have known though… He always plays it down, when he's hurt."

Hmh. So Erin has noticed it too. Hank doesn't know if it stems from pride, from years of hiding injuries caused by his father, or from a genuine desire not to bother anyone with his pain, but he hopes they can train this behavior out of Halstead. If only to avoid him messing up on a mission when he's supposed to be one hundred percent and not nursing hidden injuries. Though Hank has to admit, it's never happened before, so Halstead probably knows his limits, or he's just used to pushing through the pain until the mission is done. But to be quite honest, Hank's worry about Jay's behavior is not related to the job. It's more that he hates the idea of Jay not feeling comfortable enough to admit being hurt. And if he hides things from Erin, who's supposed to be his partner on the job and his girlfriend outside of it, he's pretty sure the guy doesn't disclose his injuries to anybody. Except maybe Mouse. Hank will have to drill the tech wizard on that point, one of these days.

Erin's voice pulls him from his musing.

"So, anything else I should know? About his health, I mean?"

Hank shrugs, "That's about it, as far as I know. Three broken ribs, one broken finger, a concussion but that's mainly cleared up, and a whole lotta bruises."

Erin cocks her head to the side, and narrows her eyes at him. Shit.

"And what's up with you and Jay?"

"What do you mean?" Hank asks, but he wonders if someone from the team spilled the beans about what happened the day she was brought in.

"I mean, come on! Usually you act like you barely tolerate the guy, and all of a sudden you're all concerned about him."

"I always liked Halstead," Hank grumbles.

Erin gives a small laugh at that, then winces when it seems to pull on one of her stitches. "Yeah sure. You like him enough to keep him in your unit. But it's not like you've never threatened the guy with bodily harm before. Now what, you bring him a sandwich? Act all protective and shit?"

Hank thinks it's about the right time to come clean. He'd rather be the one to tell the story, and he has never planned on hiding what happened from her anyway. He doesn't need Halstead to feel like this is a big secret either. It happened, everyone needs to get over it.

"When you were brought in… your injuries were pretty severe and at first it looked like you weren't going to make it. I didn't have the whole story, but at first, I blamed Halstead for letting that happen to you."

"Hank –"

"Let me finish. So yeah, I kind of went a little berserk on him. Punched him in the face a few times. Didn't know he already had a concussion at the time… Wasn't really thinking straight."

Sadness is painted on Erin's face as she replies, "Shit Hank, he really doesn't need that…"

"You think I don't know that? I'm kicking myself for losing control this way."

"It's just that… He's got history."

Hank rubs his face and mumbles, "Know that. He let something slip. Think the concussion loosened his tongue or something. Anyways, he didn't say much but I met his old man. Don't need to be a genius to connect the dots… He talked to you about this?"

Erin shakes her head. "Mouse said something to me, once. I had pretty much figured it out at this point anyway. I don't think Jay knows I know, though."

"So… Yeah. Maybe I'm trying to make it up to him. Trying to undo what I did, even though I know it doesn't work this way."

"It's still nice that you try, Hank." The soft smile on Erin's face tells Hank he's said too much.

"Well, he's good police. Now that I've gotten used to you two playing house in my unit, don't really want to deal with the shitload of paperwork if he decides to transfer out."

Erin smirks, her way of telling him she knows it's not just about him wanting to avoid the paperwork. Her way of telling him she knows Hank is a good guy, a softy underneath the tough leather exterior.

"All right," Hank says, "I'm going to go out there and see if wonderboy is still sulking."

"Try to make him go home, Hank, I don't think he's sleeping much."

"Will do my best, but that's a stubborn one you chose there Erin."

She shrugs, "Takes one to know one."

He grunts and slips out of the room. Jay is at the other end of the hallway, where a few chairs have been set up for the visitors. He's sitting, head tilted back against the wall behind him in a semblance of sleep, but Hank can see he's awake. He at least seems to have cooled down a bit.

"Hey," Hank grunts.

Jay's only movement is to open his eyes, and the lack of reaction proves that he was indeed not sleeping.

"I talked to Lindsay. She's up to speed. On everything."

Jay frowns, like he doesn't know what Hank is talking about, before comprehension dawns on his face.

"You didn't have to do that…" he mutters.

"It was never a secret, Jay. It's not something I expected you keep to yourself."

Jay shifts in his seat, he looks uncomfortable. "I just didn't want to upset her. She's been through enough."

Hank nods. "Apparently what's upsetting her right now, are the dark circles around your eyes, so you should probably go home and get some rest."

Jay sighs but it quickly turns into a yawn. "Yeah, that's what I was gonna do anyway…"

Jay stands up and takes a few steps in the direction of Erin's room, before he stops and turns around.

"Sarge?"

Hank meets his eyes and nods.

"Just so you know. This was a one-time thing. Next time you decide to take a swing at me, don't expect me not to hit back."

And that's when a real smile breaks out on Hank's face.

"If there is another time, I sure hope you will hit back Jay. Sure hope you will."

Because, yeah, in a way, it's progress.

AN : there you go. Hope you liked it. Hit me with a review to let me know! Even a few words mean a lot to me…


	10. Chapter 10

AN : Here is the final chapter. It's mainly from Hank's POV. It doesn't follow the same format as the other chapters, and covers scenes happening all through the next year. It basically wraps up everyone's recovery.

 **Chapter 10 – EPILOGUE**

In the end, they don't release Erin the next day, but two days later. The official reason is that they needed to keep monitoring her wounds. The true reason is that Hank Voight made it clear he wanted her to stay a bit longer at the hospital. At this point, the whole medical staff knows it is no use trying to talk Sergeant Voight out of something, except if you want to end up with a spectacular head-ache, and they're starting to get used to bending the rules a little bit for his unit. The fact that one of their doctors is the brother of one of the detectives also helps.

But Alvin is not just anyone, and he knows what's going on. He doesn't need to press much to get Hank to confess his true intentions.

"Erin just got off the morphine, she needs a few days before she's back to herself. We're short-staffed. Need to be at work, not worrying about her."

"Mhm." Al answers in typical Al fashion. He waits a few beats. "How's Halstead doing?" he asks innocently.

"Don't know," Voight rasps with a shrug, "Not like he's the type of guy who complains much. Easier to know when Ruzek breaks a nail that when Halstead breaks a rib."

Hank takes a sip of his beer, the one that has been sitting on the counter of the bar for too long to be anything but warm now. Alvin lets him gather his thoughts, taking a sip of his own drink. It's nice to have some time to catch up with Hank, after all the craziness of the past week.

"Got half a mind to stop by their place tomorrow," Hank admits, "just to be sure they're handling things."

"They're adults, Hank."

"Yeah, well they act like teenagers half the time."

Alvin chuckles at that, because it's kind of true.

"Erin is as tough as they come, she'll be all right."

Voight sighs, "S'not just Erin I'm worried about," he mumbles in a low voice, like admitting it is somehow shameful. It's obvious to Alvin that Jay has carved himself a special place in his Sergeant heart, but Voight will be damned before he admits it out-loud.

"I just know that Halstead is going to ignore every doctors recommendations, and it wouldn't surprise me if he was playing nursemaid to Erin twenty-four seven… Guy is so smitten with love he'd do anything for her, including hurting himself in the process. The idiot."

Alvin smiles into his drink, because although Hank is trying to sound annoyed, there's also some fondness in the statement. He's aware that when Erin came back to Intelligence after what they prudishly call her 'sabbatical', Hank asked Jay to be there for her, to take care of her. Kind of giving them his blessing at the same time. But it's obvious he hadn't foreseen the length Halstead would go to in order to honor that oath. All in all, Alvin is glad that Hank finally got to see Halstead for who he really is, rather than just view him as a young cocky aspirant trying to get into his daughter's pants by any mean necessary.

"They'll be all right," Al reasserts.

"We'll see," Hank grunts, before finishing his beer.

* * *

But it turns out that Olinski is right, as usual. Hank calls Erin a few times during the next week, and everything seems to be going fine. He doesn't call Halstead, because it would just be awkward, though he does drop by unexpectedly one day, ostensibly to see Erin, but he uses his time there to subtly check how Jay is doing.

The way the young man moves tells Hank his ribs are healing nicely. The bruises have faded, at least the ones on his face have. But the most noticeable change is his eyes. They're back to their usual brightness, and he looks rested. In the end, it looks like the cure to the young man's nightmares is having Erin in his bed. Though Hank is glad not to have to drag his detective to the shrink kicking and screaming, he wonders if this is good basis for a healthy relationship. It's a lot of pressure, a lot of expectation to put on Erin's shoulder, a woman who is notoriously known for having commitment issues. But it's too late to do anything about that now, that ship is sailing, and Hank can only hope it doesn't sink during the next storm.

At some point, Erin leaves them alone in the living room. Hank can hear a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Al, telling him it's okay to show that he cares. So Hank makes the superhuman effort of getting the words out. "You okay Halstead?" There, he said it.

Jay looks a bit surprised by the question, like he hasn't been expecting his boss to actually talk to him. That makes Hank kind of glad he did ask. Maybe Alvin has a point. Maybe words are important. Though coming from Alvin, this advice is a bit of a hypocritical joke.

"I'm fine, Sarge."

It's the usual bullshit line Halstead serves him on a regular basis, but this time Hank is inclined to believe him.

"Think you'll be okay to come back next week? On desk duty?"

By the relieved look on Halstead's face, Hank is pretty sure the guy is bored out of his mind.

"Yes. Totally," he answers, eagerness dripping out of his every pore.

"Good. Be nice to have you back at the precinct."

It's obvious Jay doesn't really know how to answer to that, but Hank doesn't miss the way the guy stands a little straighter. Shit, Hank is not the type to give out free hugs in the street, but with this kid, it's obvious some positive reinforcement can go a long way.

* * *

A few weeks later, it's Erin's turn to be back in the district, on desk duty. She looks as relieved as Jay had been to finally be out of the apartment, back to business. There's a bit of teasing going on between her and Jay, because her first day back is also the first day Jay is not assigned to desk duty anymore.

Hank hopes Jay's trigger finger is completely mended, because they're actually going to need an elite sniper on this case.

But any reserve Hank might have had about Halstead disappears a few hours later, when he shoots the hostage taker down. The bullet goes neatly between the perp's eyes, and Halstead is steady as a rock before, during, and after the shot.

Another few weeks later, and Erin is back in the field, not chained to her desk anymore. Jay and Erin are back to being partners, back to having each other's back, and they're as good at it as they've ever been. A hell of a team, a force to be reckoned with.

Hank takes in a real breath for the first time in what feels likes months. They got through this, they're back to normal. Case closed.

Except everything is not totally back to normal. And it becomes abundantly clear as Halstead is being looked over by a medic in the back of a rig. He's shirtless, arms crossed against the cold air, goose bumps already appearing on his skin, as well as bruises where the bullets hit the vest. And Hank is furious.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he bellows in the younger man's face. Halstead flinches slightly, reminding Hank of a night in his house that he'd rather forget. A whole week that he'd rather forget. Still, Hank forces himself to take a step back. He doesn't need to be in fist-range to yell at Halstead. And he needs Halstead to pay attention to his words, which he can't do if he's busy wondering where the punch is going to come from.

As he takes his step back, Halstead meets his eyes.

"The guy was going for Erin. I covered her."

"She had already ducked, you dumb-ass, you cover her by shooting at the guy, not by jumping in front of her! You're not superman!"

Jay's eyes drop down, but he doesn't say anything. There's no "Yes sir" coming out of his mouth. Hank wants to grab his chin to force Jay to look at him, but he knows it's not the right thing to do. Not with Jay. Instead, he just barks, "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Jay raises his head. "I can't fail her a second time, Sarge."

"You think you dying wouldn't be a failing her? You think Erin would want that?!"

Halstead shrugs, and answers so low that Hank has to strain to hear it. "Better me than her." And something breaks inside Hank at those words. It's true that for Hank, if it came to choosing between Halstead and Linsday, he'd want his daughter to live. But the way Halstead delivers that statement, like it's obvious that in the grand scheme of things his life just holds less value than Erin's, like it doesn't bother him at all, it's just the way things are, well that makes Hank's stomach twist in a very unpleasant way. The unbidden memory of Jay blurting out that his father never hit Will comes to his mind. And Voight wants to punch Halstead senior in the face for damaging the kid's self-worth so badly.

But damn it, Hank doesn't want to have to burry anyone else period. Not his family, not his unit. Especially not Jay. And the fact that the young detective would sacrifice himself so readily doesn't sit well with Hank.

"Listen to me, Halstead, and listen to me well. You are not expendable. Got that?"

Jay nods slowly, eyes once more dropping to the floor.

"And you didn't fail her the first time either. Shit happens, it's not on you. You hear that? So stop it with the misplaced guilt already, because that's not helping anybody. Think Erin will be a hundred percent focused on her job if she has to worry about you stepping in front of a bullet meant for her?"

Jay stays silent, and Hank lets his words sink in a few seconds.

"As of right now, you're back on desk duty."

Jay's head snaps up at that, "It's just bruises, Sarge."

"I don't care," Hank barks, "I'm not getting you out in the field until I'm damn sure you're not going to jump in front of a bullet!"

"So, it's punishment." There's a belligerent look in Jay's eyes and Hank is going to crush that right now.

"Be glad I'm not outright suspending you. It's time for you to reflect on the stupidity of your actions. Time for you to think about the fact that Erin is your partner, an efficient cop, not some damsel in distress. And to get through your sick skull that your death wouldn't be any less devastating than anyone else's in this unit."

Halstead mellows a bit.

"Yes, sir."

"Next time you pull something like that, you're out of the unit."

There's a longer pause before Jay answers, in a smaller voice, "Yes, sir."

Thinking he's made his point, Hank turns his attention to the medic, "Get him to Med, he broke some ribs a few months ago. Need to make sure nothing's broken again."

"On it Sergeant Voight."

As the ambulance rolls away, Erin comes to stand beside him.

"You okay?" he asks.

Erin shrugs, "Pissed off."

Hank grunts in acknowledgement.

"Don't know if I got through to him. Counting on you to make sure he gets the message."

When Hank sees the fierce look in Erin's eyes, he knows what he just said to Halstead is nothing compared to the dressing down his girl is going to give him tonight.

"You bet I'm going to give this idiot a piece of my mind when he gets home," she growls.

And Hank wouldn't want to be in Halstead's shoes right now.

* * *

After two weeks of being in the dog house, Hank allows Jay get off desk duty on one condition, and one condition only. Weekly appointments with a shrink. Jay fights and rages and argues, but in the end the young man wants to be back in action, so he complies. Not without complaining so much that Hank actually escorts him to the first session, and stays in the waiting room to be sure he doesn't bolt after five minutes.

When Jay gets out of the psychiatrist office, he throws him a glare and spits, "Happy now?"

"If you want another week on desk duty, just keep this up," Hank warns, and Halstead just chooses not to talk to him anymore this day. Hank is pretty unmoved by Jay's attitude, he's raised two kids through their teenage years, so this is like a walk in the park for him.

The next few weeks, Hank has to insist for Jay to meet his end of their agreement, keeping the threat of desk duty or of getting kicked out of the unit hanging above his head. But slowly, getting Halstead to go to his appointments becomes less of a struggle, and he sees a change in the young man's behavior. It's subtle, but his detective becomes steadily calmer, and at the same time less withdrawn. He sees it in the way Jay operates under fire. He sees it in the way some cases that would have been triggering for Jay a few years ago, are now dealt with the same detached professionalism as any other case. Though Hank knows some scars will always be there, it seems like Halstead is learning to distance himself from some of the shit he went through.

One evening, as Jay is leaving the bullpen, he turns to Erin asking "You coming ?"

"In a minute," she answers. Jay shrugs and goes down the stairs, while Erin slips into Hank's office.

"Hey kid," he rasps.

"Hey," she hesitates a second before blurting, "Thank you. For what you did for Jay."

Hank raises a questioning eyebrow.

"He seems better now," Erin elaborates, "He _is_ better now. And I think talking about his shit helps so…"

"It helped you," Hank grunts, "No reason it shouldn't help him too." He might sound unaffected, but Hank is actually glad to have the confirmation of Jay's progress.

"Anyway," she says as she turns to leave, "thought you should know. 'Night Hank."

"Night kid."

* * *

The first time Hank invites Halstead to Sunday lunch, the guy doesn't appear. To be honest, he didn't really invite Halstead. It's more that he grunted to Erin that if she wanted, she could bring someone to their traditional family meal on Sunday. He doesn't even know if she relayed the message to Halstead. So the next week, he tries to be a little more explicit.

"You planning on coming over? On Sunday?" he asks Erin.

"Sure Hank, but I'm doing the cooking this time."

Hank grunts in acknowledgement. Truth is Erin is not very gifted at the whole cooking thing, but sometimes she likes to reverse the roles and pretend she can bake a cake as well as she can shoot a Glock.

"You planning on bringing Halstead?"

Erin shrugs, "if he doesn't have anything else planned."

And that's good enough for Hank.

But on Sunday, Jay is still a no-show. Hank stops trying after that, deciding that the younger man is just not comfortable enough around him to expose himself to his presence on a day when he doesn't have too.

A few days before Thanksgiving, Hank catches the end of a heated phone-call between Jay and his brother. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he hears it anyway.

"I'm not coming Will, you know he doesn't want me there."

There's a pause, as Will is obviously answering something that Hank can't hear.

"If he wanted me there, he would have invited me. Which he didn't."

Another pause.

"Did he actually tell you that ? Did he tell you, 'you should ask Jay to come over for Thanksgiving' ?"

Jay is pacing, unaware that his voice is rising as the conversation continues.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. You go be a good son. I'm done trying. There's a couch and a TV with my name on it, and it sounds a whole hell of a lot better than spending my free Sunday with this old prick."

Hank leaves after that. He didn't mean to hear that much.

But before Erin and Jay leave at the end of the day, Hank corners them on their way out.

"Erin. You coming over for Thanksgiving ?"

Erin sputters a little and glances at Jay, "Yeah, sure."

"Good. Olinski is coming too. Was thinking of inviting Trudy and Mouch as well."

Then he looks at Halstead, "You're coming too."

Hank doesn't wait for an answer and goes back to his office, leaving a stunned Halstead behind. He doesn't care that it sounded more like an order than an invitation. He knows Halstead doesn't have anything planed, and if he does, he can still come forward and say something.

But Jay does show up on Thanksgiving. The young man nervously hands him a pecan pie in greetings, and turns slightly red when Erin explains enthusiastically, if a bit teasingly, that Jay did it himself. They're the first guests to arrive, and awkwardness is pouring out of Jay. Hank leads them to the kitchen and shows Jay where to put the pie. He takes a sip of the glass of cognac that was sitting on the counter and offers some to the young man. There's tension in every fiber of the kid as he declines, and chooses a beer instead.

Once the other guests arrive, the atmosphere becomes more relaxed, and Hank ends up actually having a good day, sharing a nice meal with people he appreciates. Turns out Jay's pecan pie is not half-bad either.

After that, Hank extends regular invitations for Jay to come over with Erin on the weekends. Halstead doesn't always show up, but half the time he actually makes the effort to come. At first, the older man is baffled by the way Jay can sometimes be pretty relaxed around him, and sometimes awfully jumpy, until he notices it has a lot to do with what kind of drink Hank has in his hand.

And if Erin notices that, after a while, Hank never drinks any hard liquor when Jay is around, preferring to stick to beer or wine in moderation, well she doesn't say anything.

* * *

Almost a year later, Hank is watching the bullpen through the blinds of his office, and wondering what the hell is wrong with his detective this time. Jay has been jumpy since the beginning of the week, startling when people speak to him, and looking generally like he is hiding something. Hank has dug around in their latest case but can't find any work-related reason for Halstead to act this way.

More than once, the kid has opened his mouth, looking like he was going to ask him something, before fidgeting and turning away. This is starting to grate on Hank's nerves. If Jay doesn't stop being a nervous wreck soon, Hank might consider throwing him in the cage until he spills the bean.

But that's kind of a last case scenario. For now, Hank is planning on grilling Halstead next time he comes over to his house, and get to the bottom of this thing.

Turns out he doesn't have too.

On Sunday, as Hank is plotting how to get Jay away from Erin long enough to interrogate him, the doorbell rings. He opens the door to find a beaming Erin, and a slightly nervous Jay. Erin hands Hank a bottle of champagne, and as Hank wonders what the occasion is, he sees it, on the hand that's holding the bottle. A pretty, shiny ring on Erin's finger.

"Is that what I think it is ?"

Erin nods, and her smile stretches a bit more, all dimples and bright eyes. Suddenly, Jay's nervousness makes a whole lot of sense.

"Congratulation kid." Hank hugs her briefly, and turns to Jay as Erin saunters into the kitchen to put the champagne in the fridge.

"So. Been wondering what had you all fidgety this week. Now I know."

"Yeah." Jay ducks his head a bit and offers a shy smile of his own. "I mean, I wanted to talk to you beforehand, but… well, this one made it clear that she would never date any guy who asked her father for permission first, so…" Jay shrugs.

A real laugh breaks out of Hank at those words. Man, Halstead was going to have his work cut out for him with his firecracker of a daughter. Instead of saying that out-loud, Hank holds his hand out to Halstead.

As the younger man shakes it, Hank is careful to look him in the eyes as the words leave his mouth, making sure Jay knows he means it.

"Welcome to the family, son."

 **THE END**

AN : Thank you for sticking with me through this story ! And sorry if the ending feels a bit cheesy, but since we didn't have our happy ending on the show, I thought it was only fair we had one here.

I know some of you were hoping that I would develop some scenes between Erin and Jay, but I'm not as comfortable writing romance/couple things, as I am writing angst and father-son relationship.

I still have some ideas that I might develop, but it didn't really fit into the story I wanted to tell. So I might post some of these ideas as one-shots happening in the same "universe" as this story.

And finally, thank you to all those who read and special thanks to the wonderful people who took the time to review! I was pretty happy with the response I got with this story, despite English not being my mother tongue. Although I wrote this fic mainly for myself, it's still nice to see that my work is appreciated, even if it's just by a handful of (wonderful) people Thank you for the support, you rock ! Your feedback really makes me want to write more.

I'll be happy to know what you think of this last chapter, and if you have some ideas for some one-shots that fit into this universe, don't hesitate to share them.

A few words to the amazing reviewers :

SoFeelingTheLove : thank you for your detailed reviews of every chapter, you always get what I want to express, it was great reading some of your takes on what was happening in this story. I hope it didn't disappoint!

Lily : In the end it was more than 7 chapters, I hope you liked it ! Your review saying you wished it was longer that 7 chapters had me inserting some scenes that I wouldn't have thought of otherwise. Thank you for sticking with me through this story and for all your lovely reviews !

Alyb137 : Thank you for your on-going support through the whole story, your reviews made my day, I hope you liked it !

Sacramone12, Jaysoffer, CPDfan, Ghostwriter, vari14, jhalstead, Orion9, Ray Hope, The Frisge loves food, The Great Gig, Specks 10, and all the Guests, thank you for your support, your words of encouragement mean the world to me and really motivated me to continue with this story until the end.

Until next time, take care everyone, and have a wonderful end of year.


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